


The Inquisition's Dragonborn

by helygen2017



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Amulet of Mara, Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Canon-Typical Violence, Deep Roads, Dragons, Fanart, Hallucinations, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Lyrium Addiction, Marriage, Minor Character Death, Multi, NSFW, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, PTSD, Recovery, Restraints, Slow Burn, Smut, Song Lyrics, Swearing, Tentacles, Thu'um, Word Walls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2018-12-23 15:17:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 42
Words: 159,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11992431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helygen2017/pseuds/helygen2017
Summary: Gwenaëlle, the Dragonborn, has completed her final challenge and defeated Alduin, the World Eater, but on her way home from Sovngarde she seems to have taken a wrong turn and ended up in Thedas where a fledgling group, led by a man with a glowing hand, struggle to save their own world. Does the prophesy of the Last Dragonborn still have more to play out? Will the Inquisition accept her or destroy her? A tale of action, adventure, dragons, and love.Important notes: the Dragonborn is not the Herald / Inquisitor in this story. While the story follows the plot of DA:I, this isn't a rewrite of the quest lines. :)





	1. The Arrival

Gwenaëlle leaned on her ebony swords, Hyrrvig and Blársvell, for a moment to catch her breath as her companions thumped each other on their backs congratulating themselves on their success. Alduin, the World Eater, was dead.

“That was a mighty deed! The doom of Alduin encompassed at last, and cleansed is Sovngarde of his evil snare. They will sing of this battle in Shor's hall forever!” Tsun boomed as he strode over to the heroes.

“All hail the Dragonborn! Hail her with great praise!” Felldir, Gormlaith, and Hakon cheered.

“But your fate lies elsewhere. When you have completed your count of days, I may welcome you again, with glad friendship, and bid you join the blessed feasting,” Tsun addressed Gwenaëlle. “Dragonborn, are you ready to return to Nirn and your family?” Tsun asked her.

She had defeated Alduin. The civil war was over with the defeat of the Imperials, all that was left was for the moot to be called and the new High King declared. _By Talos_ , she thought, _let it be Ulfric or conflict could spark all over again_. She was looking forward to semi-retirement in her new manor, Skyfall Estates, just outside of Whiterun, with her adopted daughters, Lucia and Sophie. But before she did that, she needed to go grab an amulet of Mara and go speak with a certain red-headed thief in Riften. She was ready for a quieter life. She looked around Sovngarde, waved to Kodlak her one-time mentor, for the last time and turned back to Tsun. “I am.”

“Return now to Nirn, with this rich boon from Shor, my lady: a Shout to bring a hero from Sovngarde in your hour of need. Be well, Dragonborn, until you are called home to Sovngarde once more.” He drew in a deep breath and shouted, “Naahl Dal Vus!”

Gwenaëlle felt the force of Tsun’s shout hit her as her surroundings faded out in a warm glow that grew in brightness until she had to cover her eyes against the glare of light. The world around her came shuddering back into solid form as she hit the ground hard. Kneeling, she carefully opened her eyes and noticed some odd things immediately that made her suspect she wasn’t back at Skuldafn and Alduin’s temple. Above her, a translucent cloud of green energy alternatively writhed and crackled as the energy shifted from the cloud into a crystalline structure. Above that, a maelstrom of rocks and debris swirled around a green vortex in the sky. Staring at it for too long made her nauseous. Around her in what appeared to be a smouldering ruin of a building, people were fighting the biggest, ugliest dremora she had ever seen, and they were losing to it. She pulled the twin ebony blades from the scabbards and charged towards the dremora. “Su Grah Dun,” she shouted and felt her movements become faster as she whirled in and out around the dremora landing hits while she avoided its shocking weapon.

The dremora leapt away from her and the others to go after a man connected with some lightening to the green energy floating over the ruin. He didn’t appear to notice the approaching danger. She rushed between the man and the dremora and shouted, “Fus Ro Dah!” causing the dremora to stumble back away from the man. The other fighters took advantage of the distraction and finished off the dremora which crumbled away into green ash before vanishing entirely. The man suddenly jerked his hand and the glowing green energy disappeared with a boom knocking everyone back as he collapsed.

She stepped towards the unconscious man when a dark-haired woman stepped between them, levelling her sword at Gwenaëlle. “Solas? Is he all right?” the dark-haired woman asked over her shoulder without taking her eyes off her.

“He’s unconscious Seeker, beyond that I am unsure. We need to get him back to Haven,” a bald elf answered her. Gwenaëlle’s eyes widened at the elf; he didn’t appear like any of the elven races she had previously encountered through Tamriel, but rather looked like the statues of the ancient Snow Elves in Irkngthand before they were corrupted into the Falmer.

The woman turned back to her taking a step forward in a threatening manner, “who are you and how did you come through the rift?”

Gwenaëlle adjusted her grip on her swords and narrowed her eyes assessing the situation. There were too many people around armed with blades and other weapons, and above and behind her with bows. From what she had seen during the fight, there was at least one mage in the group as well. She could always use one of her shouts to bypass these soldiers but without knowing where she was or the layout of the ruins, she could find herself in a more difficult situation. For the moment, she’d stand down until the situation was more favourable. Moving slowly to not alarm the taller woman before her, she sheathed her swords and lifted off her dragonscale helmet, “my name is Gwenaëlle. I was on my way home from Sovngarde when I arrived here – wherever _here_ is. I do not know what this rift you speak of, is.”

“You will come with us. Relinquish your weapons,” the dark-haired woman demanded.

Gwenaëlle stilled herself, “I will turn over my blades when my cold dead hands can grip them no longer.”

“Seeker – she fought with us and stepped in to protect Max. You could try giving her the benefit of the doubt for the moment,” another voice piped up.

Gwenaëlle turned to the voice and her eyes widened again. Forgetting the woman holding a sword on her she addressed the male with excitement reaching out to touch him, “you are a Dwemer? Are there more of your kind here? I thought your race had died out!”

“If by Dwemer, you mean Dwarf, then yes I am. Varric Tethras, rogue, storyteller, and occasionally unwelcome tagalong, at your service. The Dwarves are alive and kicking in Thedas, at least the last time I checked. I’m sure you’ll end up meeting more of us,” he chuckled.

The dark-haired woman made a disgusted noise as she sheathed her sword. “Come on, we’re returning to Haven.”

Gwenaëlle walked along side of Varric, ignoring the soldiers that paced beside them although she was completely aware of their presence. Looking over Varric’s shoulder, she nodded, “that’s a nice crossbow. The Dawnguard made fine crossbows but even with the Dwemer schematics we located, they produced nothing like that.”

“Ah she is, isn’t she,” he said fondly patting the butt of the crossbow. “Bianca and I have been through a lot together. I’ve never seen swords like yours.”

“It took a long time to collect the materials and learn enough to make the swords how I wanted them.”

“You made those yourself,” Varric asked incredulously. She nodded. He gave a low whistle under his breath, “Harritt is going to want to talk to you. What about the armour – you make that too?”

“Uh huh. So, Bianca? Named for someone special?” Varric just shrugged so she didn’t push him since he didn’t seem to want to elaborate.

As they walked out of the ruin, she noticed the remains of charred corpses. “What did this? Was it a dragon?”

The dark-haired woman answered, “no. We do not know who is responsible for the explosion here. It destroyed the Temple of Sacred Ashes and opened the breach in the sky. Rifts are opening all over the place, ones such as what you came out of.”

Gwenaëlle noticed some red glowing stone emerging from the ground and started walking closer to examine it. It gave off a strange hum that made her teeth itch. Varric reached out placing a hand on her arm, “don’t touch it. It’s red lyrium. It is altogether evil.”

“Red lyrium? What does it do?”

“First it talks to you and then it makes you go mad. Stay away from it.”

They continued down the mountain to a village surrounded by wooden palisades. She evaluated the defenses with a practiced eye, noticing trebuchets situated in key locations along the front of the village. Tents in rows were laid out in front of the palisades and around a frozen lake; signs of an army. It was still a small army but one that looked to be growing. To the right of the village gates, there was a small surround holding a few horses and beyond that a crude smithy. Most of the soldiers and archers dispersed to tents as they approached the gates while a few that were transporting the unconscious man continued in through the gates. The dark-haired woman signaled to a blond man wearing plate armour who joined them casting a glance at Gwenaëlle. “Commander, will you please join us while we escort… our new friend to the Chantry,” she said. Gwenaëlle caught the glances between the two warriors and sighed. She probably wasn’t going to like where this was going.

The group walked through the village and she took note of the people wandering around town. Many looked to be injured to some degree; most looked like the people had after the fighting around the cities between the Stormcloak and Imperial armies. Shocked, grieving, and lost. They entered a large stone building that appeared to be some sort of religious designation, banners hung from the walls, statuary with candles and other offerings peaked from alcoves. They led her to a door when Varric piped up, “Seeker, is that really necessary?”

“It is none of your concern, Varric.”

The dwarf shook his head, “I’ll see you later Gwenaëlle.”

They escorted her down the stairs and along a corridor. Empty prison cells lined the edges of the room. The dark-haired woman opened a cell door and gestured for her to enter, “your weapons first.” Gwenaëlle looked around and calculated her odds, _not good_ she thought. She sighed. She removed her Nightingale bow and quiver of dragonbone arrows then the two ebony swords and scabbards from her back. She hesitated for a moment, then handed them to the person the dark-haired woman had addressed as ‘Commander’. She then removed the two daggers, the Blade of Woe and Mehrune's Razor, from their scabbards at the small of her back and handed them over. “Don’t lose any of those, Commander. I worked very hard for those and would be quite upset if they were to be misplaced,” she said.

She turned around and approached the cell. The dark-haired woman cleared her throat, “and the others.” She pulled the two Stalrim blades from each boot and the glass blade from her left sleeve, and turned back to the Commander.

“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” she said with a wink. He blushed. She smirked as she strolled back to the cell, walking past the woman holding the door before turning and leaning against the wall. “So how long will I be held in here?”

“Until we determine if you are a danger to us, or are working with the enemy,” the woman answered closing the door before she and all the others filed out of the room.

Gwenaëlle watched them leave and noticed that a guard was posted outside of the prison area, but that they were not watching what was going on within the room. She sat down against the wall, shifting her armour slightly to get comfortable. She pulled out a piece of stale bread from a hidden pouch tucked in her armour and ate it wishing she had some mead or ale to wash it down with. She pulled a lock pick from another hidden spot in her armour and cleaned her nails as she casually looked around the cell. She silently thanked Cynric for his lessons and advise on jailbreaking as she spotted some weak spots that she thought she could take advantage of if the need arose. Of course, she could probably just pick the locks if it came down to it as they didn’t look particularly complex. She folded her arms across her knees and decided to get a bit of rest while she could.

She woke a little bit later to the jovial voice of the Dwemer, _no he said his race was called_ _Dwarf_ , she thought, Varric chatting up the guard. She smirked as she overheard the conversation, the dwarf effectively running circles around the guard until they relented to let him pass. The door opened revealing said dwarf bearing a tray laden with food and a large pitcher. Her stomach growled earning a grin from the dwarf. “I don’t imagine anyone has been by to bring you any food or drink. I don’t know about you but after a good fight, I develop a keen appetite for both,” he said with a wink.

“Thank you Varric,” she replied, “I am indeed hungry.” She cradled the bowl of stew in her hands taking comfort in the warmth as she settled back down on the pallet on the floor. Varric poured a mug of what smelled like ale and pushed it through the bars of the cell towards her before grabbing a stool and settling down to his own meal. He quietly observed the woman as she ate. She wasn’t as tall as Cassandra but she had carried herself every bit like a capable warrior as the Seeker. Her hair, which was twisted into a long rope down her back, was a deep shade of red like old blood but glinted a brighter red in the candle light. Her eyes were a curious shade of pale green that almost seemed to reflect light. But what drew the eye more than her hair or her eyes were the three lines of scars that ran across her face like something with claws had tried to rip off her face. One line ran from the right side of her forehead, across the bridge of her nose and into her left cheek narrowly missing her left eye. The one below that was shorter running from the right temple and across her cheek ending before the corner of her mouth. The last one started just below her right ear and followed the edge of her jaw before stopping at her chin.

After a few minutes of companionable silence as they ate, Varric took a couple of swallows from his mug before addressing her. “So what’s your story, Gwen?” he asked. She quirked her eyebrow at his familiar shortening of her name. “Where are you from?”

“Would you mind answering a question for me first, Varric?”

“Sure, if I can,” he shrugged.

“Where am I?”

“You are in the village of Haven… In the western part of Ferelden…” Gwen frowned so he continued puzzled, “you’re in Thedas… Are none of these names familiar to you?”

“No, they are not. I was on my way back to Tamriel after defeating Alduin in Sovngarde.”

“Who or what is Alduin?”

“Alduin, the World Eater. He was the first of the dragons; the wellspring of the dragon civilization. I travelled to Sovngarde to defeat him before he could consume all the souls of the dead and bring the end of the world.”

“And Sovngarde is?”

“Where the heroes and champions go when they are called home after a life of great deeds of honor and valour.”

Varric whistled, “so you physically walked in the afterlife and on returning ended up here instead of your own world? The Seeker and Nightingale are going to love that. Make a great story if its true.”

“Do you not believe me?”

He sighed, “I don’t know what to believe, but I’ve seen too much weird shit in the past few days to dismiss your story out of hand. Your armour and weapons certainly aren’t like anything I’ve ever seen in my travels.” He got up and gathered the empty bowls, utensils, and tray, but left behind the tankard and remaining ale for Gwen. “I expect they will want to talk to you soon. At least as soon as they are certain that Max is going to survive after closing that rift.”

“Max? That’s the mage that was closing the – rift – you call it?”

“He’s no mage. Poor kid just got saddled with some kind of ancient magic, but no one knows where it came from or how it got welded to his hand. Thing’s killing him.” He stopped and looked over his shoulder before turning back to her, “well I better go before I raise the Seeker’s ire.”

“Thanks for the food and drink, Varric.”

He nodded, “sure, no problem.”

He left the prison chamber and Gwen sat back down with her thoughts. It was painfully obvious to her that she wasn’t in Tamriel as Tsun had intended. How she got here, wherever here was, was a mystery. One that she would need to investigate in order to return to her proper home.

A few hours after Varric departed, the prison door opened again. This time it was the dark-haired warrior and a redhaired woman whose face was hidden in the shadows of her hood. Gwen stood up and stood in the center of the cell relaxed and observed the two women as they approached. The warrior, the one that Varric called ‘Seeker’, was quick to anger and aggressive; this she already knew. The other woman must be the one Varric referred to as the Nightingale; she walked softly and with confidence not unlike some of the better thieves or assassins she knew. She’d bet ten septims that the woman was as lethal as the warrior but you’d never see it coming unless she wanted you to. This one was the one to be wary of.

“Who are you and where are you from?” the warrior asked.

“As I told you before, my name is Gwenaëlle and I was on my way home from Sovngarde when I arrived here. My home is in Tamriel, specifically an estate outside of Whiterun,” she answered without taking her eyes off the redhead.

“Where is Sovngarde?”

“Sovngarde is where the souls of great warriors go at the end of their days if they are found worthy. Alduin, the World Eater, had entered Sovngarde and was consuming the souls of the dead destroying what was left of those valiant heroes. In doing so, he would have destroyed the world. I entered Sovngarde and defeated Alduin. I was returning home from that battle when somehow I ended up here in the middle of your battle with that dremora.”

“You’re lying.”

“If I was going to lie to you, don’t you think that a less fanciful story would be more likely to get you to believe me? I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know how I got here but this is not my world!”

The warrior took a threatening step forward but the redhead who had remained silent put a restraining hand on her arm, “Cassandra…” The warrior made a frustrated sound but turned and walked a little distance away from the cell. “What do you know of the events at the Conclave?” the redhead asked.

Gwen listened carefully to the woman’s words not recognizing the accent so had to take a moment to parse what the question was. “I don’t know anything about a Conclave. Was that something to do with what happened at, what did you call it,” she glanced at the warrior, “the Temple of Sacred Ashes?”

“Yes, there was a meeting between two warring factions to try to come to a peaceful settlement when there was an explosion that killed nearly everyone that were in attendance. You know nothing of this? Yet you appeared at the heart of where the explosion occurred. How?”

“I do not know how I came to be here. Tsun shouted to send me home; there was a bright light that made me cover my eyes and when I opened them I was in the middle of that battle with the dremora.”

“What is this thing you call a dremora?”

“Uh, maybe you call them something else? That big ugly spikey greyish creature – its unlike anything I have seen before but it resembled a dremora, so…”

“Ah. We call them demons. That one was a Pride demon.”

“Huh. Do you often call demons into your world? Seems like a bad idea to me, certainly never seems to end well.”

The redhead gave a faint smile, “no we don’t usually call demons into the world but that rift you saw was what allowed it in. We’re trying to close them and prevent more from coming across.”

Gwen nodded but didn’t offer anything else. “I’ve told you the truth. Are you going to let me out?”

“We need to discuss it and look into your story before we decide on your fate,” the warrior answered before the redhead could respond. “Come Leliana, we need to discuss this with the others.” The two women turned away and exited the prison.

The guard at the door closed it after the women and again turned his back to the room itself. Gwen decided that she was going to amuse herself and move to a warmer cell; the one she was currently in was damp and there was a draft blowing across it. She quietly crouched down and pulled out her lockpicks to work on the cell door. Very quickly, the lock released with a metallic ping. She dropped her hands and watched the guardsman for any notice of the noise the lock made. When he showed no signs of being aware of her actions, she eased the cell door open. Picking up the remainder of jug of ale that Varric left, and the blanket from the pallet, she wandered over to another cell that had a drier floor and was out of the breeze. She entered the cell and closed the door behind herself before getting comfortable to rest for the night.

The next day Varric came to see her again bringing food and more ale. He paused when he didn’t see her in the center cell. “Over here Varric,” she called getting his attention.

“Ah, they moved you to another cell?” he asked puzzled.

“No. I moved myself. That cell was damp and drafty. This one is much cozier,” she gave him a wink.

He looked at her for a moment and then laughed, “thought you might like some company and some food. Not sure if anyone has been by today.”

“No, you’re the first. Haven’t seen anyone since Cassandra and Leliana questioned me yesterday.” She nodded her thanks taking the proffered bowl of stew and chunk of bread to sit on her pallet. “How is Max today? Any better?”

Varric sat down with his own meal, “he’s still out of it but Chuckles said that he should be awake within the next day or so. Can’t be too soon, people around here are losing hope.” They ate in silence for a while before he asked, “so it’s apparent that you could leave if you wanted to, so why don’t you just walk out of here?”

Gwen shrugged, “I could but where would I go? I don’t know my way around or how to get home from here. Your people might be able to help with that. I’m not leaving until I can retrieve my weapons but if I feel that my life is in danger then I will take my chances by leaving. I’ve laid my head on a headsman’s block once already and don’t intend to do that again.”

“Oh ho, there’s a story there!”

She smirked at his enthusiasm, “it really was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was travelling to Skyrim from my home in High Rock when I got caught up in an ambush crossing the border. The Imperials caught some Stormcloaks, including Ulfric who will be the next high king, but also got a couple of us that were not involved in the rebellion at all. One person was shot when he tried to escape. I had my head on the block when there was a distraction that allowed me to make my escape.”

“What was the distraction?” Varric asked paying rapt attention.

She grimaced, “ironically, it was the appearance of Alduin. The dragon attacked the town we were brought to for execution. I escaped, as did Ulfric and some of his Stormcloaks.”

“That’s some good luck you had there.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure about how good that luck was. It certainly was a turning point in my life, for better or worse.”

“So why were you leaving home?”

“I caught the eye of a son of a noble family who wanted to buy me as his personal plaything. The noble family were rather unscrupulous and threatened my family and their livelihood as merchants after I rejected the son. My parents encouraged me to leave to protect myself and I agreed as it would remove the leverage against my parents as well.”

“Did it work?”

“Yes and no. The son never got his hands on me but my parents died when their shop burnt down under mysterious circumstances.”

“Shit, I’m sorry. Was anyone ever brought to justice for their deaths?”

Gwen gave him a dark look and for a moment Varric could swear that the flicker of the candle light was within her eyes. “Oh yes, they paid.” They chatted for a little while longer before Varric excused himself, again leaving the rest of the ale and bread before he left with the empty dishes.

She leaned back against the wall and allowed her mind to wander. After a little while she noticed that the prison door was open and the guard didn’t appear to be at his post. Perhaps he had stepped away to relieve himself or some other momentary distraction. She grinned to herself as she got up quietly and picked the lock on her cell. She slipped quietly to the door and peeked out to see where the guard was. She spotted him at the far end of the hall speaking with another person just beyond another open door. She slipped into the shadows cast by the flickering candle light and moved from alcove to alcove looking at the contents. There were a variety of things that she ignored; small vases, cups, plates; the odd coin which she pocketed, and some books. She flipped through the books to see if she could find any with recognizable text when a book with a drawing of a dragon caught her eye. She tucked that under her arm and noticing the guard had started to shift his posture indicating he was wrapping up his conversation. She slipped back into the prison cell pulling the door to the room and then her cell shut behind her. Casting the magelight spell, she stuck the glowing orb to the wall behind her head and started to work her way through the book she had stolen under the guard’s watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hyrrvig (hyrr vig) - Norse, meaning "fire battle"  
> Blársvell (blár svell) – Norse, meaning "black ice"  
>   
> So my "Through the Swirling Vortex to Thedas" muse is not cooperating and this happened. Still working on Swirling and hopefully this will help get me over that writer's block :)
> 
> Haven't determined the relationships yet so I'm open to suggestions as to what people might like to see. :)


	2. Introductions

She was awakened when she heard someone stumble and crash over a stool in the middle of the prison block. She assumed that they had gone to open her cell. She smirked to herself,  _this is going to be fun,_  as she cast magelight tossing it towards the ceiling to illuminate the room. The soldier that had tripped gasped when he saw the floating light and then realised that she was in a different cell than before. He quickly picked himself up off the floor and assumed a confident air that was only slightly ruined by him drawing his sword. “My lady, you are to come with me.”

“Where are we going?” she asked getting up from her seat on the pallet, tucking the pilfered book under her arm.

“I am to take you to the Seeker and the Spymaster. They are waiting for you upstairs.”

Gwen waited for him to unlock her cell door. “Um, you have to let me out if you want me to go with you.”

“Oh right,” the guard stepped forward fumbling with his sword and the key to the door. He dropped the key which fell into her cell. Gwen rolled her eyes and picked up the keys. Reaching between the bars she unlocked the cell door and held the keys out to the guard who took them cautiously.

“All right, lead on.” The guard hesitated with his sword in hand. “Oh, all right. I’ll go first. Just don’t trip and stick me with your sword.” She walked out of the prison door and down the hall she had explored the previous night. At the end of the hall, she looked over her shoulder at the guard and he indicated to go up the stairs. She went up the stairs and was met by another guard; the two of them escorted her to a door at the far end of the building away from the doors to the outside. The hall was once again populated by worshippers but also people that she assumed were priestesses or clergy based on their matching robes and funny hats. The second guard knocked lightly on the door bringing her focus back on the room ahead of her while her original guard shifted uncomfortably behind her. Behind the door, she could hear raised voices. There was a loud thump and the door was flung open as a man in the religious robes shoved his way out of the room knocking hard into her shoulder but didn’t pause or offer an apology. _Ugh_ , she thought, _self-entitled prig_.

The guard at her back cleared his throat. Gwen rolled her eyes and walked into the room as the guard stammered to the people in the room that he brought the prisoner as they requested. He quickly ducked out of the room and closed the door behind him. The room was lit with multiple candelabra and the odd brassier to drive out the cold. Several tables lined the back wall of the room and held papers, books, some goblets, and a jug. In the center of the room was a large wooden table that was covered in a map and held down with various items on the corners. A few small tokens were scattered over the map. Her weapons were laid across one side of the map. Her fingers twitched to have her hands on Hyrrvig and Blársvell again but she resisted the urge to grab them and instead she crossed her arms and observed the people in the room. The dark-haired woman, Cassandra, stood at one end of the table to her left. The redhead, Leliana, stood beside her behind the table. The blond man in plate with the biggest fur collar she had ever seen on armour, the Commander, was also there standing on the far side of a table, his hands resting on the pommel of the sword on his belt. Next to him was an attractive brunette wearing expensive looking clothing and holding a scribe’s pallet and quill. The final person in the room standing to Gwen’s right was a tall strongly built man, as tall as any Nord, whom she had seen briefly the day she arrived here. He must be “Max”.

The scribe spoke up to break the silence, “my Lady. I apologize that we have not had opportunity to formally welcome you.” Gwen’s lips twitched in amusement at her apology, as if she had been cooling her heels waiting for an audience rather than sitting in a dungeon cell for two days. “You have already met Seeker Cassandra Pentaghast; our Spymaster, Leliana, and briefly Cullen Rutherford, the Commander of the Inquisition’s forces,” she introduced the people around the table. “I would also like to introduce you to the Herald of Andraste, Maxwell Trevelyan,” the said indicating the man at her side. Gwen noticed he frowned slightly when the title was provided, either it was a new title to him or he was uncomfortable with it for another reason. Perhaps both were the cause of his discomfort. “I am Josephine Montilyet, Ambassador for the Inquisition. Might we have your name?”

“Gwenaëlle.”

“Do you have a family name, my lady?”

“My family is no more, but you can use Dovahkiin or Dragonborn if you wish. I have many names and titles depending on who is addressing me.”

The Commander sneered slightly in contempt, but Gwen ignored him. “Titles, my lady? Are you a noble in your land then?” Josephine asked readying her quill.

Gwen sighed, “I am Thane in the nine holds, those titles are honorary ones for deeds done rather than a hereditary title. I’m also Harbinger to the Companions, Listener to the Dark Brotherhood, Nightingale and Guildmaster to the Thieves Guild, Arch-Mage to the College of Winterhold, and the High King named me Stormblade for my service to him during the war. Above all, I am Dragonborn to all of Skyrim.”

“All that?” Max asked incredulously.

Gwen gave him a knowing look, “some titles weigh more than others.”

“You’re a mage…” Cullen started to say.

Leliana sighed, “you would pick up on that one.”

Gwen looked at him, “I have some skill with magic but only utilitarian spells for the most part. The Arch-Mage position is an elected one, not one granted particularly for magical ability.”

“If we can get back to the heart of the matter,” Josephine diplomatically steered the conversation back on track. “The Inquisition has been newly formed and we could use someone of your abilities, if you would be willing to join us.”

“Why would you want my assistance? I know nothing about the events you have told me about.”

“That may be; however, we have seen your abilities to fight,” Cassandra responded.

“As well, you evidently possess skills for subterfuge based on what Varric told us,” Leliana added with a slight smile.

Gwen smirked knowing full well that Varric would have told them about her cell swapping. She dropped the book she stole on the table, “yes well, the guard didn’t seem to be too interested in what was going on _behind_ him.”

Cullen’s eyebrows rose, “where did you pick up the book?”

“I got it from the hall outside of the prison cells last night. The guard was distracted by someone talking to them at the stairs.” Cullen scowled at her explanation. “In the guard’s defense, I am very good at not being seen if I don’t wish it.” Josephine laughed quietly at the story but quickly schooled her expression when the commander turned his attention to her.

“We do not yet know who is responsible for causing the explosion at the Conclave nor whether they are still alive or still have agents here. You have obviously have had ample opportunity to leave or cause us harm, but you haven’t. So we ask you, will you join us? In return, we will try to help you find out how you came to be here, and if possible, to send you home,” Leliana said.

Gwen thought about their offer. She knew nothing of this land or the powers at play here. It may be that one of the daedra was toying with her, but on her own she was unlikely to find her way home. Her best bet was to help these people. “Agreed. I will help you for now until our paths take us our separate ways.” She clasped hands with each person in turn and glanced down to her weapons.

Josephine noticed the glance and blushed, “my lady, as a gesture of good faith, we’d like to return the weapons we took from you with our apologies. We did need to make sure…”

Gwen waived off her explanation, “I understand completely.” She stepped forward to the table and with practiced movements placed all the weapons back where they belonged.

“Thank you, my lady. We will get a space set up for you to use for your rest…” Josephine continued.

“There is room in the cabin you gave to me,” Maxwell interrupted. “Another cot and a privacy screen could be set up there.”

“Herald, your security – ” Cassandra started to say.

“Yes, you mentioned that my safety is paramount. Lady Dovahkiin has already saved my life once already and you’ve determined that she is not a security threat,” he spoke quickly to try to over-ride Cassandra. “Having someone else present so I wasn’t alone for would-be attackers would be sensible, wouldn’t it?”

Cassandra opened and closed her mouth unable to come up with an argument while Leliana smiled quietly. “Yes, but her reputation! It would be unseemly,” Josephine argued.

“I have no reputation here. I am a warrior like any other. If the Herald would be more comfortable with someone sharing his quarters, then I accept his offer.”

“Very well, my lady. I will see to the arrangements before this evening.”

“Thank you Ambassador Montilyet,” Gwen replied with a slight bow to the woman.

“You are dismissed,” Cassandra told her.

Gwen bowed the rest of the room and strode out, closing the door quietly behind her and headed to the main doors to go outside. She pulled open the big doors taking a deep breath of the cold mountain air when she heard running steps behind her. She didn’t need to turn around to know that is was Maxwell hurrying after her.

“Thank you for agreeing to stay in my cabin, my lady. You didn’t need to do that,” Maxwell said as he caught up to her.

“Please, call me Gwen. You seem like you need a friend, Herald.”

He grimaced, “my friends call me Max.”

“Very well. Max. Now tell me, where can we get a drink?”

Max grinned, “let’s find Varric. He’ll know.” They walked through the village, Max pointed out where his cabin was for reference, when they arrived at Varric’s tent at the top of the stairs. Conveniently situated, it turned out, next to the tavern. They settled down into a corner with some bowls of stew and pitchers of ale. They chatted about inconsequential things as they ate. Soon Gwen noticed that the bald elf she had seen a few days ago tending to Max had quietly joined them and appeared to be studying her.

“Chuckles, glad to see that you could pry yourself out of your cabin to come slumming with us,” Varric said. “Chuckles, this is Gwen. Gwen, this is Chuckles.”

The elf looked exasperated, “my name is Solas, if there are to be any introductions. It is good to finally meet you Gwen.”

“And you Solas. What is your role with the Inquisition?”

“Solas, here, is our resident apostate,” Varric explained.

“Technically all mages are apostates since the Circles fell,” Solas clarified.

“What are these Circles for mages? Are they like a college?”

“Anyone showing magical ability is confined under guard – for their safety as well as the safety of others,” Solas replied with thinly veiled disgust.

Gwen’s eyes widened, “you imprison anyone that does magic? How can that be? Doesn’t everyone here have the ability to do magic if they wish?”

“No. It is an innate ability you are either born with or not. The magical aptitude usually shows up later in childhood. When it does, the mage is taken to a Circle to be trained and kept under guard by the Templars.”

“And Templars are?”

“They are warriors that are taught to disrupt a mage’s magic and guard mages against possession by demons.”

Gwen thought about that for a moment. “So magic is feared here. Let me guess, the Commander is a Templar.”

Varric chuckled, “in Curly’s defense, he’s seen the worst mages have to offer. But he’s sided with the mages during one of the worst uprisings and has since left the Templars because of the injustices that were carried out against the mages.”

“So anyone in your world can do magic if they want? There is no risk of demon possession?” Max asked.

“Um, yes. Why would demons be involved?”

“Mages draw on the Fade to power their magic. Spirits and demons dwell in the Fade and are drawn to mages,” Solas explained. “How does your magic manifest?”

“I don’t draw from an external source but my own willpower,” Gwen replied. She concentrated for a moment and cast the magelight spell sticking it to the table before them.

“Fascinating. I could feel your magic manifest but you do not pull on the Fade at all as you said,” Solas replied poking at the magelight on the table.

“So when you said that you are the Arch-mage…” Max asked. Solas’ eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“I _did_ mention that the title was an elected position, and not one given on strength or aptitude. I was elected to the position after saving the College from one of their own that tapped into an immensely powerful ancient artifact and was going to destroy the world. I defeated Ancano and in gratitude the other mages elected me to be their leader.” She noticed a flicker of disquiet cross Solas’ face but it was so quick she wasn’t entirely certain she saw it at all.

“What about all those other titles; Harbinger, Listener…” Max asked.

“Can we leave those for another day, _Herald_?” she asked. He had the grace to blush at his grilling her after she had already expressed sympathy towards his own unwanted title.

“What do our illustrious leaders have planned next?” Varric asked.

“They want you, Solas, Cassandra, and myself to head to the Hinterlands to meet up with a Mother Giselle and located someone by the name of Dennett for some horses,” Max replied looking a bit uncomfortable.

“What about Gwen, here?”

“Ah, Leliana and Cullen want her to stay here a bit longer,” he replied not looking at Gwen.

“They don’t trust me yet and Cassandra has enough to do keeping an eye on you,” Gwen shrugged assessing the situation. “I’m sure I can find something to do while you’re off in these Hinterlands, just try not to take an arrow to the knee or your adventuring days will be over.”

Varric chuckled, “I think Curly and Nightingale are going to have their hands full too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gwenaëlle - Breton, meaning "blessed and generous"


	3. Skill Testing Questions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice long chapter for you - I couldn't figure out where to cut it in half. 
> 
> Thank you for kudos, comments, bookmarks, and subscriptions!

Max and his group left for the Hinterlands two days later. It was expected that they would be gone for about two weeks as it was going to take them about three days of walking to get there before they would even start to tackle the tasks ahead of them. Hopefully their return trip would be faster if they managed to get a hold of the horse-master. Gwen dressed for the day in her full armour but foregoing the helmet; she wasn’t ready to go without the armour in Haven, she didn’t trust the people enough and she was without one of her housecarls or companions to watch her back. No one in their right mind at home in Whiterun or any of the other holds, truth be told, would dare challenge the Dragonborn, but here she was an unknown and could expect challengers. She made her way over to the tavern for her breakfast. The tavern keeper, Flissa, gave her an easy smile as she delivered the porridge, a hunk of cheese, and mug of hot tea that made up the breakfast offering.

“Lady Dragonborn,” a scout addressed her, “Sister Leliana requests your presence after you have eaten.”

“Do you know what it is regarding?” she asked the scout.

“I do not my lady, just that you are to go to her as soon as you are finished here. She will be waiting for you in her tent in front of the Chantry.” The scout saluted her with a closed fist against their chest and walked away.

 _Well then_ , Gwen thought, _the assessment begins. This is going to be just like Galmar’s hazing when I joined the Stormcloaks_. She headed up to Leliana’s tent and sat down on one of the crates in the tent to wait for the Spymaster to finish issuing orders to her agents.

“Good morning Gwen. I trust you slept well?” Leliana asked as she leaned against her own set of crates.

“Thank you, I did. One of your agents said you wished to speak with me.”

“Yes. We need to assess your skills to determine where best to employ you within the Inquisition. Both myself and the Commander will be conducting the assessment over the next few days.” Gwen nodded. “First, I wanted to get some clarification on some of the things you told us in the war room the other day. What are your magical abilities?”

Gwen shrugged, “mostly restoration and alteration spells. Healing, light, and defensive warding spells. I know a few offensive spells such as fire but don’t use it that often, usually only if I need to set beehives on fire or clear out giant spider webs. I prefer other weapons for combat purposes.”

“I see. What of the Dark Brotherhood?”

“The Dark Brotherhood is an assassin’s guild. I was their leader.”

Leliana’s brow went up. “You’re an assassin? How many kills?”

“Um, twenty-one I think was the last count. After assassinating the Emperor, I was pretty busy with the civil war so spent more time assigning jobs than completing them myself.”

“Hmm, Zevran would love to meet you,” she muttered to herself. Before Gwen could ask for clarification, she continued, “you mentioned Nightingale and Guildmaster of the Thieves Guild. I’m assuming that the Nightingale role was related to that guild rather than spycraft?”

“The Nightingales are a trinity of thieves sworn to protect the sanctuary of Nocturnal; you might consider her our deity. In return, she provides her blessing to those of us in the Thieves Guild by granting us the ability to work in the shadows unseen. While we predominantly use those abilities for theft, they are useful for other jobs.”

“You used these abilities to open the prison cells and obtain that book from under the guard’s watch?”

“I didn’t have to work very hard to get the book, to be honest.”

“Hmm, let’s see how good you are. There are three locked doors in that hallway outside of the prison block. I want you to open them and retrieve an item from each room. Without being seen by the guards on duty. You can leave any armour and weapons you want here in order to remain quiet.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Gwen said getting up from the crate. She jogged up and entered the Chantry making her way to the alcove across from the staircase down to the dungeon. She watched for a few minutes to see if there was a guard patrolling the staircase and when she determined there wasn’t, she slipped down the stairs and stopped in a shadowed corner at the bottom of the staircase. The hall was empty. _Okay_ , thought Gwen, _I should expect guards at random intervals, and likely someone else with stealth abilities to test me._ She snuffed a candle in one of the alcoves to create a hiding spot for herself and then started on the first door. It was a simple lock that took only seconds to open. Slipping into the room, she spotted a necklace on the table which she quickly pocketed and grabbed some gold she saw on a shelf behind the door. Opening the door cautiously, she exited only to hear boots coming down the stairs. She softly closed the door before she quickly slipped into the alcove and drew herself into the shadows to wait. The guard walked down the hall poking his head into the alcoves before heading back up the stairs.

She slipped back across the hall to the next door, again the lock was quite easy to pick but inside the room there was only a chest sitting on a table and a couple of torches adorning the walls. _All right Nightingale, challenge accepted_ , Gwen thought pulling out another lock pick. She set herself to the lock when she heard a soft movement outside the room. Holding her breath that there wouldn’t be a sound, she locked the door of the room and hid in a corner. She heard the door knob rattle and then a key enter. _Shit._ She offered a prayer to Nocturnal and invoked her Shadowcloak power to make herself invisible. A scout entered the room and lit the lantern they were carrying. Gwen didn’t move as the shadows gave way to the light. The scout looked around the room, behind the door, and under the table before leaving the room and locking the door again. Gwen stayed still listening to the scout move to the other locked room. She started working on the locked chest again while listening to the scout move around next door. She heard the scout relock the other door, and paused when the door knob to the room she was in was shaken again. The scout satisfied that the door was still locked walked away. Gwen unlocked the chest and found it empty. She frowned and then smiled, _another test._ She checked the underside of the table, beneath the chest, and along the door frame but found nothing. Then on a hunch, she moved to the torches and found a piece of parchment wrapped around the inside of one of the brackets. The words _Look behind you_ were written on the page. Gwen smirked and repicking the door lock.

Carefully opening the door a tiny bit, she scanned the hall for the scout or another guard. Not wanting to risk being caught, she used the Aura Whisper shout to determine if anyone was still in the hall. “Laas Yah Nir,” she mouthed silently. The scout’s aura flared before her eyes from where they were hidden in the shadows behind the staircase door. They had a good view of the hall so she needed to get rid of them. Obviously, she couldn’t kill them so she needed to distract them enough to leave. She took a deep breath and released another silent shout, “Zul Mey Gut!” A disembodied voice called from up the stairs. Gwen saw the scout startle; they took one last glance at the hall and went up stairs. She breathed a sigh of relief and quickly exited the room going immediately to the last room. The lock was slightly more challenging than the previous two but nothing she couldn’t handle. Opening the door, she slipped inside of the room and glanced around. She spotted a book decorated with precious gem stones in an armoire which she slipped into a pouch on her belt. Just as she was exiting the room, she saw gold figurine that looked like the result of a bizarre mating of a pig and a rabbit. She grabbed it and stuffed it into her pouch as well. Exiting the room, she heard footsteps on the stairs again so she shot across the hall into the dark alcove again.

She watched the guard enter the first room and look behind the door, and under the bed. The guard opened the second door and looked inside, behind the door and under the table before moving to the third room. Gwen knew that the guard would look in that room and there was an extra piece of furniture for them to check giving her a few precious seconds to get down the hall and around the door before they had full view of the hall again. As soon as the guard went around the door to check the armoire, Gwen took off down the hallway as fast and silently as she could and hurried up the stairs. Before reaching the top she slowed to a normal walk and slipped into another alcove to watch for the guard to leave. Carefully so not to alert the guard she walked behind them all the way to Leliana’s tent and listened to the guard’s report. Leliana smirked at the guard and tipped her chin at him. The guard spun around and Gwen resisted laughing as she saw his eyes widen in surprise.

“Very good. Neither of the guards nor my scout saw you. The scout did report a voice at the top of the stairs that no one could explain once they got up there to investigate. What did you retrieve from the rooms?” Gwen pulled out the necklace, coins, piece of paper, the book, and the figurine and placed them in front of Leliana. “Very impressive and quick too. That’s all I had for you. The Commander has requested that your report to him after the mid-day meal.”

Leliana scooped up the gold coins and poured them into Gwen’s hand with a smile as she dismissed her. Gwen flashed a smile back and headed off to wander around the village to familiarize herself with the layout since she was too busy socializing with Max and Varric the previous days. She headed to the tavern and chatted with Flissa gathering news and rumours of the people and activities in Haven. After a light lunch, she wandered outside of the gates of the village to where she had seen the soldiers sparring. Leaning against the wall, she watched the soldiers. The most inexperienced soldiers were closest to the gates with the most seasoned and skilled soldiers towards the frozen lake. Archery butts and sparring dummies were set aside to be used as needed. She let her gaze wander over the troops before landing on the Commander that was pacing through the troops yelling instructions. He stopped to adjust one recruit’s stance and looked up spotting her. _I guess people watching time is over,_ she thought to herself pushing off the wall to report in.

“Leliana told me I was to report to you for assessment.”

“Um, yes, thank you Lady Dovahkiin. I have some questions before we put you through your paces.”

“Please, call me Gwen or Dragonborn if you must use a title. All right. What do you want to know?” she asked crossing her arms over her chest.

“Do you use magic to fight?”

“No. If I use magic its usually for healing after combat or warding spells when I’m in the wilderness. I often travel alone so don’t always have someone available to take watch at night. I do have some other abilities as Dragonborn; however, they are not magic per se.”

“Will you demonstrate those abilities?”

“Um, perhaps if you take the precautions I insist upon. I do not wish for anyone to get hurt.”

“That would be acceptable. I assume you are proficient in swords, the bow, and daggers. Anything else?”

“No, those are enough,” she replied with a slightly cocky smile.

“Hmph,” he said. “What combat experience do you have?”

Gwen snorted, “I’ve fought dragons, wildlife, undead, bandits, giants, and trolls. I’ve been the front line to breach the defenses of fortified troops during the civil war. I’ve taken point to assault enemy encampments. I’ve seen more than my share of battle, Commander, and I’ve dealt death to more men that I care to.”

Cullen studied the woman before him. She stood a head shorter than him and had a slighter figure that most of the seasoned women within his own troops. But the scars on her face and the look in her eye when she told him of her experience spoke volumes to him. He recognized the look of someone who had seen too much. “Let’s see what you can do. We won’t use live steel; our forces are small enough without incapacitating each other in a sparring match. Rylen!” Another soldier with tattoos down his chin jogged over. “Pick some challengers for the Lady Dragonborn here.” Gwen resisted rolling her eyes at the name. He turned back to Gwen and raise a brow, “you can disarm yourself for the match.”

“Yes, is there somewhere secure that I can leave my weapons? I do not wish to leave them on the field.”

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose, “fine, hand them over to me. I will hang on to them.”

“Thank you, Commander.” She handed him the swords from her back, the bow and quiver, and pulled the daggers from the small of her back. She also handed him the three hidden daggers that she had previously given him when they placed her in the prison cell. His eyes widened as she drew yet another dagger from her right vambrace, and then a short narrow dragon bone shiv from a slot hidden in her dragonscale breastplate.

“Please don’t tell me you had those on you when we put you in the prison cell?” he groaned.

“All right, I won’t,” she giggled. She walked over to a rack where the practice swords were stacked and selected two giving them a practice swing to be sure she was happy with their balance, weight, and grip. Swinging her arms around her body to loosen up she marched over to the space that was now ringed with soldiers eagerly awaiting the match. Several soldiers stood at attention holding practice swords and shields. She entered the circle through the gap the soldier made for her, Cullen taking up that space as the soldier closed behind them. Cullen laid out the terms of the match as much for Gwen’s knowledge but also to educate the newest recruits, and called for the first opponent.

She stood in the center of the ring, relaxed as the first soldier stepped up. He was a very large man, _not dissimilar in size to Farkas_ , Gwen thought, but he didn’t move with the same fluidity that her shield brother did. He was in full plate with a skirt bearing the symbol of a flaming sword; this was one of those Templars she had been told about. She grinned at him, a warrior trained to kill defenseless mages. The Templar hoisted his shield and sword up and advanced on Gwen, she took her stance and waited. The soldier attacked with a heavy swing that she easily dodged. He followed it quickly with a shield bash that she rolled passed and slashed her swords across the back of his legs hard enough for his legs to buckle. Had the swords been sharp she would have hamstrung him. “Out,” called Rylen.

She stepped back to the center of the ring as the next Templar entered the ring. This one moved with more freedom than the last challenger so she hoped for a better fight. The Templar took a more defensive stance and tried to feint to draw Gwen into making a mistake, but she was too experienced to fall for the ploy. After a few minutes, the Templar was beginning to get a bit frustrated and started to make more aggressive moves trying to press her, Gwen slipped past the shield and whacked the Templar on the shield arm. They dropped their guard and looked down as their arm went numb and she tapped the other sword against the back of their neck in the gap between their cuirass and helmet. “Out,” called Rylen.

The next half dozen fights went along similar lines. From the corner of her eye, Gwen saw Rylen and Cullen conferring with each other. Once she eliminated her last opponent, she grabbed a dipper of water from a nearby bucket and took a drink. Rylen called out two names; the first soldier stepped up with a sword and shield, the second with a sword and dagger. _Now it’s getting fun,_ she thought _._ “Rylen,” she called out, “choose a third.” Rylen looked at Cullen who nodded. Rylen grinned at her and picked up a shield and sword. She grinned back.

She took her stance in the middle of the ring with swords raised, as she watched the three circle her. This time she went on the offensive immediately. She exploded forward driving the one sword and shield soldier onto his back foot. He scrambled for footing under the onslaught of her attack to no avail. “Out,” called Cullen as the soldier found Gwen’s swords crossed under his chin.

She immediately spun and countered the attack of the sword and dagger and shoved him into Rylen who kept the soldier on his feet. The two of them advanced on Gwen trying to flank her. Again, she went on the offensive, she knocked back Rylen but wasn’t able to get past his guard; she spun and drove against the other opponent catching them by surprise when she dropped to her knee and tapped the tips of both swords against their chest. “Out,” called Cullen.

Gwen rolled and came up facing Rylen who immediately pressed his advantage. She blocked and spun as the two of them duelled. The fight continued for far longer than any of the previous bouts as the two were more closely matched in skill. She lunged forward to duck inside of Rylen’s guard and he trapped her left sword between his shield and pauldron, but she had her right sword against his neck. Suddenly Cullen called out “draw!” Gwen froze, looking down she saw Rylen’s sword against her ribs. She looked back up and returned Rylen’s grin; they had killed each other.

“Good match,” she offered Rylen with a smile.

“Aye, is was. Any time you want to spar, just let me know,” he grinned back.

She returned the practice swords to the rack and then started relieving Cullen of her weapons. “Now let’s see how you are with the bow.” She demonstrated her accuracy and speed with her bow even considering the fatigue she should be experiencing after all the sparring. Cullen grunted in response, satisfied, when she finished. “Will you demonstrate your other abilities?”

“Yes. Have your recruits place a training dummy at the edge of the lake away from the tents and other structures, and I’ll show you.”

Cullen barked on order and two recruits carried a dummy out where she indicated. “Clear the area,” she requested. She stood before the dummy and took a deep breath and shouted, “YOL!” The dummy burst into flames from her fire breath. Behind her she heard gasps and exclamations of shock. The training dummy crackled as the straw burnt away and the interior wood started to burn. Taking another deep breath, she shouted “IIZ!” The flames extinguished on the dummy as it froze solid. Finally, as she regained her breath, she shouted one final time, “FUS!” The dummy went flying off the lake shore and smashed into pieces when it landed striking the frozen lake surface. She turned around and saw a lot of shocked faces.

“ _What_ are you?” a voice asked from the crowd of soldiers.

“I am Dragonborn,” she said with a shrug.

Cullen barked an order sending the soldiers back to their drilling. “What is the source of that power?” he asked her.

“Being Dragonborn means that I have the soul of a dragon and can speak their language. That is source of my power.”

“It is not magic?”

“No, so it can’t be nullified by your Templars,” she replied startling him with her awareness of the Templar’s ability.

“Yes, well, um,” he rubbed the back of this neck for a moment. “Thank you for demonstrating your skills. I have no further requirements of you today.” Gwen sketched a bow to the Commander and headed off to the smithy to see about using the grindstone to repair her weapons after fighting Alduin and then that dremora, _no Pride demon, they called it._

Gwen walked into the smithy and was immediately addressed by a gruff man sporting a huge moustache, “don’t have time for special requests.”

“That’s fine Master Smith, I was just hoping for a little time with a grind stone. I can do my own repairs but I don’t have a stone. I will stay out of your way.”

“Don’t be flattering me with your words, girl. The name’s Harritt. Stone’s over there so help yourself.”

“Thank you Harritt.” She pulled out her blades and laid them out on the table beside her and started working her way through them. Neither Harritt nor any of his apprentices bothered her but she was well aware that they were all watching at one time or another. She quickly lost herself in the rhythm of tending her blades.

“These are fine blades you got here, girl. Where did they come from?”

“I made them myself.” Harritt looked at her sceptically. “I trained with the best smiths in Skyrim and spent years making and upgrading my blades.” She flipped her dragonbone dagger around and offered it to Harritt to inspect.

“You made this yourself?” he said examining the blade.

“Yes, dragon bone.”

“I can see that. Where did you get the dragon bone from?”

“From the dragon I killed, of course.”

“What? A little thing like you killing dragons?”

Gwen smirked, “yes.”

Harritt studied her for a few moments. “If we take another dragon, will you show me how to make these blades?”

“I would be happy to.” Harritt handed the blade back to Gwen and she put all her blades in their proper place before wishing the smith good evening. She headed back up into the village to her cabin to drop off her bow and quiver. She debated leaving her swords – _I need to show them a little trust for them to trust me_ – and in the end left them. She still had a full compliment of hidden daggers if she really needed to defend herself. Leaving the cabin, she locked it and then after a moment’s hesitation, she cast an ice spell on the lock; there’s showing some trust and then there was being foolhardy. It wasn’t like she had Lydia, Iona, or Argis available to watch her back and possessions.

The tavern was crowded and noisy when she entered but the noise abruptly stopped as she walked into the building. She had experienced that reaction so many times before that she didn’t pause as she walked in, ignoring the stares and whispers. Back at home, she could guarantee one of a few typical responses once people learn she was the Dragonborn; the first was fear which made people avoid her, the second was avarice which made people want her for their own gain or reputation, the third was a bunch of posturing and chest pounding from those that wanted to prove themselves. That usually resulted in some sort of physical altercation. If she had a septim for every time someone challenged her she’d be, well, richer than she already was. She headed towards the counter to order some food. A couple of stools were quickly vacated as she approached so she sat down on one near the end of the counter to have her meal. Flissa brought her the daily stew with a chunk of bread and cheese, and the ubiquitous mug of ale; she chatted with her for a few minutes just like normal which Gwen appreciated before she headed off to look after other customers.

A hard tap was delivered to her shoulder with a set of rigid fingers. “I want a rematch with you. But with fists, this time,” a deep voice told her. Gwen ignored the demand and took another drink of her ale. Another hard tap on her shoulder, “hey, I’m talking to you _Dragonborn_ ,” her title delivered with a sneer that she could hear without looking at the person. She was pretty confident the person in question was the big Templar she beat in the first sparring match.

“I have no quarrel with you. Walk away,” she said without turning around.

“Mathias…” someone cautioned, evidently the Templar’s name.

“You might fool others, but you don’t fool me – mage,” he gripped her shoulder hard with his hand. Gwen grabbed his hand yanking it abruptly from her shoulder as she stood up and jerked him off balance. She reached up with her other hand pulling his head down to smack it against the counter then hooked her foot around his ankles and shoved him over backwards. There was a scraping of chairs as Mathias’ friends got up to come to his defense but Gwen ignored them all and turned back to the counter and her meal.

“Stand down!” a voice yelled from the door. “What is going on here?”

“She attacked Mathias,” someone said.

At that Gwen turned around and hooked her elbows on the counter to face her accuser. The Commander stood glowering at the door. “You know that’s not true,” Rylen said standing up from his corner.

“Report, Knight-Captain,” Cullen demanded.

“That numpty git,” he indicated to the Templar in question that was currently holding his head as he sat on the floor, “twas a sore loser. Gwen refused to rise to his challenge, but she defended herself when he laid hands on her. She showed more restraint than I would have in her position; I would have given him a right bollocking rather than the wee headache she did.”

“Is that a true account Mathias?”

Mathias groaned, “yes, Commander.”

“You will apologize to Lady Dragonborn and you will report for extra watch duty for the next month,” he told Mathias. “There will be no more in-fighting among the Inquisition personnel. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes Commander,” they all answered.

“Mathias, waiting on you,” Cullen said.

Mathias struggled up from the floor and turned to Gwen. “My apologies Lady Dragonborn,” he sketched her a salute and left the tavern with some of his companions.

Cullen made his way over to the counter, “I would apologize as well for the men’s behaviour. Are you all right?”

“Thank you, Commander. I’m perfectly fine; it’s not the first time I’ve had to deal with someone who’s resented been bested by me and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

“It will be if I have any say,” Cullen stated matter-of-factly. She turned to look at him and smiled in thanks. “I, uh…” he started to say as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“Gwen, Commander – come and join us,” Rylen offered walking up to the counter.

“Thank you, but if you will both excuse me. Its been a long day and I think I’m just going to retire for the evening,” she replied slipping out of her seat and exiting the tavern. She hurried across the village and let herself into the cabin. Locking the door, she took a deep breath and tried to ignore the prickling sensation of her eyes. _She would not cry_. She was used to that kind of reaction from others. It came with the territory of being Dragonborn, but she felt so alone. Rylen was very nice and the Commander seemed to be genuinely concerned but she missed her friends and family in Skyrim. She missed sitting up late before a roaring fire with Lucia and Sophie snacking on sweetrolls and snowberry tarts. She missed sharing drinks and stories with the Companions. She missed the green eyes and ready smile that followed her as she went about business in the cistern for the Thieves Guild. Gwen sniffed and wiped her cheeks roughly. _She would not cry._


	4. Being Useful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: attempted sexual assault.

Neither the Spymaster nor the Commander had any specific tasks for her to do over the next few days; it was likely that they would confirm with the Herald and the Seeker on their return as to how best to make use of her. They had suggested that perhaps others in the village could use assistance. After speaking to a very prickly Quartermaster by the name of Threnn, she was tasked for finding materials for Harritt. Talking to the grumpy apothecary, Adan, she was tasked with collecting as much as she could of a plant called elfroot. She had Adan show her an example of it as it wasn’t a plant she was at all familiar with; she’d have to see if any of the plants she knew in Skyrim were available here or if she’d have to start learning her alchemy skills all over again. He also mentioned missing notes from his mentor. Flissa had already told her that morning that the cooks were complaining about not having enough meat for the stews to keep up with the demand of the growing numbers of refugees and people joining the Inquisition forces.

She headed out of the gates with a passing acknowledgement to the Commander and a friendly wave to Rylen as she headed off into the woods surrounding the village to do some exploring of the area. It didn’t take her long to find clumps and clumps of the plant Adan was seeking. She followed a trail of the plants away from the village and into the woods. The sounds of the sparring troops faded giving way to the sounds of wildlife in the forest. Birds flitted through the branches of the trees, and some of those strange rabbit pig creatures trilled and squeaked as they dashed through the underbrush. _I’ll have to remember to ask Flissa if those things are edible as they are certainly abundant_ , she thought to herself.

Following the trail of elfroot, she came across an old cabin that looked like it had been abandoned for some time. The snow had had blown and packed up against the front door with no signs that anyone had tried to clear it in recent history. Fabric fluttered through a broken window, she captured the fabric in her hand and pulled it aside to look in the cabin. There was no one home. Going back to the door, she picked the simple lock and opened it. Stepping inside, she confirmed that the place had been abandoned. Dust layered the table, chairs, and sideboard in the building. Mice or other rodents had gnawed through the mattress cover releasing all the straw stuffing onto the floor below it. Tumbled to the floor was a small wooden box. Gwen picked it up and opened in finding a sheaf of parchment, the pages fortunately intact and protected from the elements by the box. Flipping through the pages, she discerned that they were alchemical formulas; these were likely the notes that Adan was hoping she could find. Rolling them up again, she tucked them in one of her waterproof pouches on her belt and left the cabin.

Gwen noticed that the wind had shifted while she was in the cabin. A cold wind carrying snow blew down from the mountain; truly it made her just a bit homesick as the bite of the wind and swirling snow through the trees reminded her of the route to Windhelm. On the wind, she could detect the musky scent of goats. _There must be some mountain goats in these woods,_ she thought, which would be a good addition to the cook’s dwindling supplies until she could find something larger. Following another trail of elfroot that she plucked as the walked along, she moved into the wind keeping the scent of the goats ahead of her. The trees started to thin out as she could see a faint walking trail start to emerge outside of the village walls that headed up further into the mountains. Movement drew her attention to the edge of the trail ahead of her as a couple of rams meandered out of the wood to graze on the scrubby bits of grasses poking through the snow. Silently she pulled her bow from her back and pulled 3 arrows, sticking two in the snow, and notching one on the string of her bow. Drawing back on the bow, she steadied her breathing and then fired. She quickly followed with two more shots bringing down three rams. Happy with her success, she drew one of her daggers and field dressed the rams before binding them together to haul back to the village.

Emerging through the trees close to the tents, a shout greeted her and a couple of soldiers hurried up to assist her with the carcasses. They hoisted them up between then and carried them off to the kitchens. “Well you’ve certainly been busy today, lass,” Rylen commented with a grin. His use of “lass” made her heart ache suddenly and something must have shown on her face because he grasped her elbow lightly and asked, “are you all right? Did I say something wrong?”

She drew a shuddering breath, “I’m fine Rylen. Someone at home calls me lass and I just had a momentary pang of homesickness.” She gave him a little smile, “the two of you sound a bit alike.”

“Sorry, la…” he looked chagrined.

“Rylen, honestly, you don’t have to guard your words. It surprised me but it’s fine.”

“Were you… Are you… Sorry, it’s none of my business.”

“We’re very good friends and colleagues. We weren’t involved but I had hoped after I returned home from my last battle that maybe…” She shook her head, “it doesn’t matter.”

“I _am_ sorry. Will you join me for supper in the tavern this evening? I promise you no one will harass you.”

“Thank you, Rylen. I have a couple of other errands to finish off for the day and I’ll see you there.”

Gwen headed into the village and headed over to Adan’s cabin. The apothecary was doing what he did best, grumbling and complaining to whomever was in the cabin whether they were listening to him or not. Currently the unwilling victim was a harried scout that looked thoroughly confused at being the recipient of the latest outburst. Gwen caught the scout’s eye and waived him over. “Sister Leliana wanted me to deliver this requisition to,” the scout pointed his thumb over his shoulder in Adan’s direction, “for healing potions to be stockpiled in preparation for an influx of refugees we’re expecting from the Hinterlands but I haven’t been able to get a word in.”

“Leave it with me. I’ll get it delivered to him,” Gwen offered. The scout saluted and left her with the parchment.

“Adan, you’re grumpier than a snow bear that’s been woken up with an arrow shot into it’s arse!” He turned around about make a caustic comment to whomever it was that had the nerve to make comments like that to him. He paused when he saw Gwen’s eye brow rise at him, her eyes twinkling with mirth. A faint smile cracked on his face and Gwen smiled back at him. “Cheer up man! I’ve got two sacks stuffed with that elfroot plant you wanted and I’ll go hunting for more tomorrow,” she said dropping the overflowing sacks on the counter beside him. “I also found those notes you wanted,” she handed him the parchment she had rolled up in another pouch. He snatched the parchment from her hand eagerly as he scanned over it. A genuine smile broke over his face as he read the notes. “I also have a requisition order here for healing potions.” The smile dropped off in favor of a scowl.

“I don’t have time to make more bloody potions; I have enough orders as it is,” he resumed grumbling.

“Hey, you have enough plants for the potions, right? Or you will after I go collecting tomorrow. So why don’t you teach me the technique and I can help fill the order,” she offered.

“Teaching someone will just take even more time,” he growled as he quickly inspected the plants she brought to him.

“I do know how to make potions. I make them for myself all the time. I just need you to show me with your plants as I haven’t been able to find any that I am used to. Show me how to do it, or provide the recipe, and I will get it done.”

Adan studied her for a moment as he debated within himself before coming to some sort of decision. “All right. Do your gathering tomorrow and the next day I will show you how its done. Maker knows I could use a hand with someone with a smattering of skill. The plants you brought me look good so there’s hope for you.”

Gwen suppressed her snort of laughter at his high praise. “Very well, Master Adan,” she said with a bow, “I will see you tomorrow with my collection.” She left his cabin and headed to the tavern to join Rylen for dinner. Walking into the tavern, she ignored the momentary stuttering of the conversation as she scanned the room for the familiar tattooed face of the Knight-Captain. Conversations lulled as made her way passed tables as she navigated the room, and she noticed four pairs of eyes watching her from the corner where Mathias and his cronies were huddled together.

No sooner than she had sat down at Rylen’s table, Flissa arrived with a full try of food and a jug of ale. “Cook says thank you for the rams. It’ll be a nice change from the nug we’ve been eating for the past few weeks.”

“Nug? Is that what those hairless rabbit pig creatures are with the creepy feet?”

Rylen choked on his ale trying to smother his laugh. Flissa smiled, “yes, but don’t let Leliana hear you say that they’re creepy. She kept one as a pet. Cook was impressed with your catch and joked that maybe you could even bring him a druffalo.” Flissa sighed, “wouldn’t that be a treat.”

“What’s a druffalo?”

“Don’t even think about it, lass. They’re highly aggressive, very large, wild cattle and they will kill you if you don’t kill them with the first shot. And if you do manage to take one down in a herd, the rest of the herd is likely to take _you_ down.”

“So what you are saying is the proper technique requires luring one away from the herd and dropping it with a single shot? Got it.” Rylen growled at her which resulted in Flissa laughing before she headed off to serve others waiting on food and drinks.

“I’m serious, lass. Don’t be hunting those things yourself. The last thing I want to hear about is that you’ve been smeared across the Maker-forsaken mountain beneath a stampede of druffalo.”

“I haven’t seen any of those creatures so I think it’s pretty safe to say my hunting will be restricted to the rams that are around the mountains. They seem to like grazing where there is elfroot which also makes Adan happy. And apparently you.”

“Aye, that it does lass.” Rylen’s gaze was intense and Gwen found herself having to look away.

* * *

Gwen headed out in the morning to gather more plants for Adan and to see if she could find the resources Threnn had asked for to fill Harritt’s requisition. She wore some new leather armour from Harritt that was more suitable for hunting and gathering than her regular dragonscale armour. She walked past the soldiers getting ready for their morning run and waved to Rylen when she caught his eye. She decided to head around the edge of the lake as she hadn’t been that way and the hunting was likely to be better as the rams wouldn’t be spooked by the remains of the ones she took the previous day.

She hadn’t gone too far past the old cabin she found the day before when she stumbled across a location that would be suitable for a logging stand. She stopped and marked the map that Leliana had given her. She carried on her way picking elfroot and located some iron deposits which she marked on her map as well. Cresting a hill, she came to the edge of a clearing. Below her were what she determined were druffalo based on the descriptions Flissa and Rylen gave her the night before. She sat up on the rocks downwind from the druffalo and studied the animals while having a snack of some ram jerky she wheedled out of Flissa. There were rams and nugs that wandered through the druffalo herd without concern but she noticed a small pack of wolves were very cautious and kept a wide berth around the large creatures.

The sun was starting its decline as she headed back towards the village following her path back around the lake towards the cabin, when she spotted what appeared to be blood on the snow. The blood appeared quite fresh and it wasn’t there when she had come that way a few hours earlier. Crouching in place, she scanned the area and saw a scuffled of footprints unlike her own trail she had left when she passed through earlier. Slipping her bow off her shoulder and nocking an arrow, she crept forward along the path scanning the trees around her. The prints led away from the village along another path she had not explored yet. She debated for a moment whether to follow but the blood on the trail made the decision for her; someone could be in trouble. Carefully, she followed the path towards a clearing. On the far side, she could see what appeared to be a fallen scout. She paused at the edge of the treeline and scanned the area, the prints led through the clearing to the fallen scout and out the other side. No prints doubled back and there were no voices or sounds indicating that anyone remained in the area. Gwen quickly moved to the prone body, it was one of the newer recruits in the army. He was lying face down, sandy coloured hair flopped over obscuring his face; she reached her hand down to his neck to see if he was alive. A good strong steady pulse was present so she reached down to roll him over to determine his injuries when she heard what sounded like a whimper off to her right. She froze at the sound but before she could turn to investigate, Gwen found herself unable to move as her muscles seized up as the paralyzing spell enveloped her. As the spell started to dissipate, a gauntleted fist smashed into her left cheekbone sending her tumbling in a daze over the man in the snow.

Gwen’s head snapped back under the force of the blow that landed on her opened cheek sending sparks of pain that brought the man before her back into focus. She was held roughly between two soldiers, each held an arm and braced her shoulders to immobilize her. “Hey man, we’re not trying to kill her,” one of the soldiers holding her up complained, standing to her left.

“We’re going have some fun putting this bitch back in her place before I end her.” Mathias taunted as he roughly grabbed her face forcing Gwen to look up at him.

“W-w-wait… no one said anything about killing her,” the sandy-haired decoy soldier stuttered, holding her up by her right arm.

Gwen took a quick glance around the clearing. Two soldiers held her up, Mathias stood before her, and from the corner of her eye she could see another soldier, possibly a Templar, holding onto an elven woman who was wearing robes. He had her arm twisted up behind her back and a knife held to her throat. Gwen quickly deduced that the elf was a mage and had been coerced to cast the paralyzing spell on her. She needed to wait until the Templar relaxed his hand so the knife was out of position on the elf’s neck before she did anything or the poor woman was likely to get her throat slit. She flicked her eyes down and saw that her weapons were on the ground just to her right where the soldier had been lying in the snow.

Mathias slammed his fist into her ribs. “Look at me,” he snarled, spittle hitting her face. Gwen silently cursed the lighter armour that allowed his hits to be more effective as she felt a sharp pain bloom across her ribs as she struggled to draw a breath. She raised her eyes to his face. “Not so tough are you now, you little bitch.”

“You are a rabid dog, Mathias. You know what they do to rabid dogs, don’t you?” she asked in a cold voice.

He backhanded her and she felt her nose crack. “Shut up,” Mathias snarled. “Get her on her knees,” he said fumbling with the laces of his breeches. One of the soldiers put his foot in the back of her knee making her legs buckle as they forced her to the ground.

“I have to say Mathias, I misread you. I figured you were a bully and a sore loser, but you’re either the dumbest person I’ve ever met or the bravest. I mean, come on, there are not many men that would put their dicks in the mouth of someone who can breathe fire.” The soldiers holding her shifted with disquiet, and Mathias paused with his hands on his laces. “Have you figured out yet how long it takes before I can reuse that ability? A week? Two days? Five minutes…”

The Templar holding the mage had moved a bit closer to them to watch what was going on; the mage’s arm was still twisted up behind her back but the Templar’s hand was resting on her shoulder, the knife at the side of her neck rather than under her chin. Now was her chance.

Gwen drew in deep breath and the two soldiers holding her let go of her in a panic and scrambled to back away. Mathias, too, had backed up but swore at the soldiers for letting her go. Now freed, she quickly grabbed her swords never taking her eyes off Mathias. Realising her intent, he backed himself out of range. She wasn’t going to let him get away so she drew a breath and shouted at him with all her power, “Fus Ro Dah!” Mathias was blasted back with the force of her shout against a rocky outcropping. His eyes widened in shock as he stared back at her before slithering to the ground leaving a smear of blood from where his head slammed into the rock. Quickly glancing around, the two soldiers that had been holding her had vanished running into the woods.

Gwen turned to the Templar holding the mage. He sneered at her as he shoved the woman to the ground. He pulled his sword from his scabbard; the bloody knife held in his other hand. With swords in hand, she shouted, “Wuld Nah Kest!” She shot forward closing the space between her and the Templar in seconds driving the swords through his chest as she ran into him. She quickly withdrew and sheathed her swords letting the dead Templar crumple to the ground as she rushed to the mage. Blood was all over the snow under the woman but she rolled her over in the hopes that she hadn’t bled out in the minute or so it took to get to her. To Gwen’s relief, the elf blinked at her; the wound while bad had missed the front of her throat so she wasn’t in any danger of drowning in her own blood but bleeding out was still a concern. She pressed her hand firmly to the side of the woman’s throat trying to staunch the blood; the golden glow of her healing spell swirled under the hand undoing some of the damage done enough to get the woman on her feet. “Come on, we have to get back to Haven before those other two grow a pair and come back to finish us off,” Gwen told the elf. She pulled the woman’s arm over her shoulder to help support her as they started walking awkwardly as she still had her hand over the wound on the throat pushing as much of her magicka into the healing spell.

They stumbled down the path for what felt like hours to Gwen when she spotted the first of the Inquisition tents. “Help! I need a healer here,” she called out trying to get someone’s attention over the crash of the sparring weapons. They kept moving as Gwen called out. Finally, there was a pause in the noise and she called again. Several recruits rushed to their aid with Cullen and Rylen close behind. The recruits tried to offer her support, ignoring the elf, “no, no. Help her, she’s had her throat cut. I’ll be fine.” They scooped up the elf and rushed her off to the healer’s cabin.

A firm hand steadied her by her elbow and gently lifted her head, her reflection peered back at her from a pair of tawny eyes staring at her. Cullen stared in shock as he saw the damage done to her face, her left eye having swollen shut and turned a livid colour from the abuse to her cheekbone and cracked nose.

Rylen, joining Cullen, snarled as he looked at her, “who did this to you?”

She closed her other eye wearily, “it was Mathias and some of his friends.”

“I’ll kill him,” Rylen vowed.

“I think he might already be dead. The one that cut the mage’s throat is definitely dead.”

“Who else was there?” Cullen asked.

She shook her head making Cullen release her chin, “I don’t know, I couldn’t see their faces. The mage might know as she was held in front of me so she might know their faces.”

They walked her over to Cullen’s tent and sat her down. “Why haven’t you healed yourself?” Cullen asked.

“I used up all my power keeping the elf from bleeding out. I’m tapped.”

“I’ll get a lyrium potion from one of the mages,” Rylen said jumping up.

“No. My magic is different than theirs. I don’t know what their restoration potions will do to me. I just need to rest.”

“Where did this attack happen?” Cullen asked.

“Head north along the lake until you get to an abandoned cabin, then head slightly northwest. The trail we left will be dead easy to follow.”

“Rylen, gather a few trusted men and join me. We’ll go find Mathias and his colleagues,” Cullen informed Rylen. “Helena, Cristof – you two will assist the lady Dragonborn to the healers,” he ordered two soldiers standing close by.

The soldiers gently helped her up and escorted her to the healers where she collapsed in exhaustion onto one of the cots. The healer crouched in front of her and gently examined her face. “I hope you gave as good to the bastard that did this to you and the elf,” he said with anger.

“I imagine I did. One, at least, I know is dead.” Gwen hissed as she shifted, “I think I have some cracked ribs.”

The header acknowledged her statement with a nod of his head, “we’ll take care of you. Here, drink this,” he said handing her a healing potion. Gwen sniffed it and smelling elfroot, swallowed it. “And this – it’s a sleep tonic to help you rest comfortably,” he said seeing her hesitation. He helped her lie down and before she drifted off she felt the soothing warmth of a healing spell pass over her.


	5. Making Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Spoilers: Skyrim Thieves Guild main quest line ***

Gwen was under orders from the advisors, as well as the healer, to rest after the incident with Mathias and his cronies. Flissa brought her daily meals along with the village gossip. The elf mage, Nera, was going to survive thanks to Gwen’s actions. Mathias was, in fact, dead. Flissa had told her that everyone was talking about how she had killed Mathias without even laying a hand on him, and no one, especially the mages and elves were sorry to hear that he had been killed. Flissa left her dinner on the table and excused herself only to return a couple of minutes later was a jug stuffed with a variety of flowers. When asked about it, Flissa shrugged and said that they were left for Gwen.

After forty-eight hours, Gwen was bored and headed out of the cabin to see if she could help Adan make his potions as she had promised. She opened the door to the cabin and discovered more little bunches of flowers, a couple hair ribbons, and a leather cord decorated with some pretty stones. She picked them all up and placed them on the table inside the cabin, then headed to Adan’s cabin. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be resting – healer’s orders,” Adan asked her gruffly.

“I’m bored, and I promised to help you with the healing potions.”

“I’ll show you another time. That mage you saved survived thanks to your efforts and we’ll not have you hinder your own recovery doing for us what we can do ourselves. Now march – back to your cabin.” She was escorted back to her cabin by the alchemist. On her return to the cabin she noticed that a collection of things had shown up at the door again. More flowers, a couple healing potions, and some pastries still warm.

The next day, she headed out towards the lake for a little walk to stretch her legs. “And where do you think you’re going, lass?”

“For a walk, Rylen.”

“I believe you are supposed to be on rest?”

Gwen sighed, “I’m sore but the injuries are mostly healed. Talos knows that I’ve taken worse; going for a walk and getting some fresh air isn’t going to hinder the healing.”

“Fine, but I will accompany you to make sure you don’t get into trouble.” Gwen rolled her eyes at him. “Take your pick, I can walk with you or I can carry you back to your cabin.”

“Fine, let’s walk,” she growled.

“See, that was much easier. Before we go, I have something for you,” Rylen said before he ducked into his tent. He returned almost immediately with her bow and quiver.

Gwen hugged the ebony bow to her chest, closing her eyes for a moment, before placing it across her back. “Thank you, Rylen. I would have been devastated to lose this bow.”

“Important to you, is it?” he asked as they started walking.

“Yes. My very good friend, Karliah, gave it to me after we saved our guild. She shot me with it once,” Gwen remembered with a fond smile.

“With friends like that, I wonder that you need enemies,” Rylen commented drily.

Gwen smiled and looked up at him before continuing. “She shot me with a poisoned arrow, and it saved my life. I was betrayed by my Guildmaster, Mercer Frey. He ran me through with a sword and if it weren’t for the paralyzing effects of the poison, I would have bled out.”

“What happened to the Guildmaster?” Rylen asked studying the woman beside him, already suspecting the answer.

She shrugged, “I killed him. I didn’t kill him for revenge; he betrayed the entire Guild, not just me. He would have died whether by my hand or that of the Guild, but in the end, he forced my hand. He used his gift to turn my two companions against each other and the only way I could prevent them from killing each other was to kill Mercer first.”

“You sound like some of the veterans of the last Blight, but Maker, you’re so young!”

“I’ve seen twenty-five summers. The last seven years – since becoming Dragonborn – they haven’t always been easy and it certainly wasn’t a path I was expecting, but it has brought me good things as well.”

“Tell me about a good thing.”         

“My daughters, Lucia and Sophie.”

Rylen looked a bit shocked, “you have children?”

Gwen smiled to herself, “yes. I adopted them both two years ago. Lucia is ten. Her parents died from the winter fever, then her aunt and uncle kicked her off the family farm when they took it over. I found her sleeping on the walls in Whiterun. She likes to bake pastries with me.

Sophie is twelve. Her mother died when she was very young, and her father was killed during his service in the Imperial army. I found her selling flowers in Windhelm to buy food. She has a green thumb and I think she wants to be an alchemist when she grows up.”

“Are they alone now then?”

“No. They have my house carl, Lydia, to care for them. I have some others pledged to my service to keep them safe. My home is just outside of the walls of Whiterun so my shield brothers and sisters from the Companions will also keep an eye on them and make sure they are provided for. They are all used to me being gone for months at a time due to my responsibilities.”

They walked back to the cabin and before the door, there were more flowers, a scarf, and a basket of what appeared to be tiny jars of cosmetics. There was also a bundle of arrows that looked to be elven in origin. Gwen frowned at the collection and was startled by Rylen’s laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. You look totally flustered by the gifts being left for you,” he answered still laughing.

“Gifts? Who’s bringing these?”

“Well, I’ve noticed a few elves, and a couple mages. There have also been a couple of other women.”

“But why?” Gwen asked bewildered.

“No one has ever expressed appreciation for the things you’ve done?”

“Well sure, people have said thank you and have maybe paid me for jobs I did for them. But strangers leaving flowers and trinkets? That’s just – I don’t…”

Rylen cleared his throat, “we did a bit of investigating about Mathias while you were healing. Certain... unsavory things came to light about him. He had a history of abuses against mages especially elven mages when he was serving in one of the Circles. He had been continuing that behaviour but we didn’t know about it as his victims were too afraid to bring it to anyone’s attention and he was sly enough to keep it out of sight. That was until you killed him, lass. Sister Leliana and the Commander are both reviewing all persons that join the Inquisition to make sure something like this doesn’t happen again.” Gwen turned and looked at Rylen as he tentatively put a hand on her shoulder, “we’re sorry – I’m sorry – for what he did to you. I swear it won’t happen again.”

She reached up and grasped his hand on her shoulder giving it a light squeeze, “thank you Rylen. I believe you.” She ducked her head and then turned away letting herself slip into the cabin.

* * *

Gwen was lounging on the bed slowly reading a book that the Ambassador had loaned to her on the history of Thedas. This one was on something called the Fifth Blight. _It seemed that Skyrim wasn’t the only place with issues with draugr and dragons._

 _Tap tap_.

Gwen lowered her book into her lap and listened carefully. “Hello,” she called out. Silence. She shrugged, perhaps its just the wind moving tree branches next to the cabin, she thought. She resumed reading her book carefully working out the words in the unfamiliar script.

 _Tap tap tap_.

Gwen lowered the book again. There was definitely a tapping noise coming from the door, like someone tapping using their fingernails on the wood rather than their knuckles. She got up and crossed the room to the door, casually placing her hand behind her back on a dagger hilt while she opened the door to see a nervous elf standing there looking over her shoulder.

“Hello,” Gwen said.

“Oh!” the elf jumped in surprise. “I’m sorry to bother you, but I – uh – I wanted to… That is, I mean…” she said with a soft raspy voice.

“Are you Nera?”

“What? Oh yes, I um… I wanted to thank you for saving my life and I’m really sorry for casting that spell against you, lady Dragonborn.” The last part, the apology, was very rushed like she was worried Gwen would kill her if she took too long. She shifted on her feet like she was about to run.

Gwen relaxed her hand from the dagger at the small of her back. “You don’t have to apologize Nera. You had no choice about casting that spell. I know that and don’t blame you for it at all. I’m just sorry about your throat. Are you in pain?”

“No. Not any more, my lady, but the healer said that my voice will likely take some more time before it’s back to normal.”

“I’m glad you came to see me Nera. I was going to find you and ask if you would help me with something.”

“Me? Why would you… I’m just… We’re not to be trusted.”

Gwen frowned slightly while she studied the shy elf mage in front of her that was doing her best to avoid eye contact. Suddenly it clicked. “Why, because you’re an elf or because you’re a mage? One of my best friends is an elf, my race is elven-blooded, and most here, would also consider me to be a mage. I trust you and would like to be your friend.”

Nera looked at her and gave her a tentative smile, “I’d like that.”

“Good. Would you help me with something? My race gives me resistance to hostile magics which often will save my life, but I need to experience it with it to get more resistant. I’ve never come across the magic you cast on me before and would like to learn how to resist it.”

Nera’s eyes widened, “you would want me to cast that on you again? On purpose?”

“Well yes. If it isn’t too taxing for you, I would like your help.”

“Um, we’re not supposed to cast around Haven. The Commander, um…”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make arrangements with the Commander so you don’t get in trouble.”

“All right. If he says it’s okay…”

“I’ll ask. Where can I find you once I get permission?”

“Oh. I’m with some others on the south side by the bridge, up against the wall of Haven.”

“I’ll find you,” Gwen told her with a smile. Nera offered her a shy smile in return before she scurried off.

* * *

The three advisors stood across the table from her in various states of confusion or shock. The candle light flickered in the heavy silence that followed Gwen's request. “Absolutely not! To frivolously engage with magic this close to the Breach for what purpose?” the Commander railed at Gwen.

“It’s not frivolous; I was incapacitated by unknown magic. The only way I can gain resistance to certain magics requires me to experience it first hand. I require that it is cast on me to train my ability to resist it. It would be far safer that a friendly mage, one that I trust, cast it than I seek enemies on the battle field to experience that same magic.”

“Commander,” Leliana interrupted, “would it not be beneficial to have the mages that are joining us to train as well? They may be called upon to do more against the demons falling through the rifts.”

“The risk is too great. The potential for possession…”

“We may be faced with battles that will require all of our skills. It would be cruel to not permit the mages to practice their abilities and then send them to their deaths,” Gwen responded coolly.

Cullen studied her for a moment absorbing her words. “Commander, if I might suggest,” Josephine spoke up, “why not permit Gwen to train with Nera under the supervision of a Templar?” She glanced at Gwen noting the frown forming but before she could protest offered, “Perhaps Knight-Captain Rylen could be spared for an hour or two to assist?”

Cullen pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Very well. Rylen can monitor the training and assess the risk. If he reports the risk is too great, the training will desist. Agreed?”

Gwen tipped her head sketching a bow, “thank you, Commander.”

* * *

The next morning, Gwen headed down to the training field. “Rylen! Has the Commander talked to you about my training request?”

“He has lass. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Definitely. I do not wish to be incapacitated like that again and Nera has already agreed to help. When are you available to supervise?”

“I have time now. The recruits are out on their run so will be another hour or so before they return.”

“Wonderful. I’ll go get Nera. She’s over on the south side of Haven by the bridge.”

“I’ll come with you,” Rylen stated as they headed to the area Nera had indicated. They were both shocked at the poor condition of the area when they arrived. Most of the inhabitants of the camp were elves and several disappeared the moment Gwen appeared with Rylen at her side. “There are apostates hiding here,” he said looking around warily.

She looked at him, “Rylen, it’s my understanding that the Conclave brought together both templars and mages to seek peace. Both groups have been cast adrift. From my experience thus far, the templars are the far greater threat.” He had the decency to look ashamed at that. “I agreed to have you supervise to appease the Commander, but also because I trust you to be reasonable and see the mages as people. Please don’t tell me my trust is misplaced.”

“It’s not lass. I was just surprised.” He relaxed slightly.

“I understand Rylen. They are frightened and rightly so. Perhaps we can start to forge some trust and understanding between the two groups.” She placed her hand on his shoulder, “wait here all right. I’ll get Nera.” She left him standing at the edge of the camp where everyone could see him.

She wandered through the camp looking for Nera ignoring the whispers and pointed looks directed at her. She spotted Nera with some other women and headed over to where she sat. “Nera, hello!”

A dark-haired elf with green tattoos running under her eyes stood up, resting a hand on Nera’s shoulder keeping her seated. “What do you and the Templar want with Nera, shem?” she spat.

Gwen studied the angry elf for a moment, and then addressed Nera. “Are you still willing to help me train with your magic, Nera?”

“Yes,” she said starting to get up. The dark-haired elf grabbed Nera’s hand pulling her back down and hissed something to her that Gwen couldn’t hear.

“You brought a templar with you, shem. Is this a trick to trap Nera into incriminating herself?”

Gwen sat down before the elf. “I only agreed to the Commander’s request that a templar oversees the training exercise because I trust Knight-Captain Rylen. I also think that Nera and I working together may provide an example so that other mages here can be viewed as something other than a risk. I will not allow anything to happen to her.”

“She got her throat cut when she was with you last,” the elf scoffed.

“I waited until the templar holding her had dropped his guard before I acted. I could have freed myself at any point regardless of the consequences to Nera. Had I done so in the beginning when the templar guarding her was more alert, she surely would have died.”

“It’s true Liesel. At the beginning, he was tense and had his arm wrapped around my neck with the knife at my throat. It was only when he relaxed and had dropped the knife to my shoulder that the lady Dragonborn acted,” Nera said. “I will be safe.” She got up and grabbed her staff from where it was hidden in the tent.

With a smile, Gwen wrapped her arm around the elf’s shoulders and guided her to the edge of the camp where Rylen was waiting. “Rylen, this my friend Nera. Nera, my friend Rylen. If you are both ready, let’s go do some training.” They walked out to a clear spot by the edge of the lake that was visible to both the camp huddled against the walls of Haven as well as the Inquisition’s regular training grounds.

“So how do you want to do this, lass?”

“Why don’t you stand off to the side over there Rylen,” she pointed to an outcropping of rock that he could sit or lean against. “I know you have to do your duty and supervise, but I want Nera to be comfortable too.”

He hesitated for a moment, “all right.”

“Nera, if at any time you want to stop – for any reason – just say so. I also don’t want you to exhaust yourself with your magic either so speak up if you need to stop. Okay?” Nera adjusted her grip on her staff nervously and nodded. Gwen changed her stance so she was well balanced and wouldn’t fall over when her muscles became paralyzed. “When you’re ready, go ahead and cast.”

Nera raised her hand after a moment’s hesitation and a glance at Rylen. Gwen saw her lips move and felt the sensation she felt the day out in the woods. Her body felt as if it had turned to stone; her muscles didn’t respond when she told her arms to move, her head wouldn’t move when she tried to look down. She concentrated on what she could feel. She could feel her heart beating but it felt like there was a vice restricting it in her chest. She realised as she studied her body that she had been holding her breath so she tried to take a breath only to find it catch in her throat. _Don’t panic_ , she told herself. Dark spots appeared before her eyes. _Don’t panic, take tiny breaths._ The dark spots got larger as she could feel her heart start to race. _Don’t panic…_

“Lass.” She felt a hand pat her cheek. “Gwen!” Another pat on her cheek. She struggled to open her eyes and Nera came slowly into focus standing over her. “Gwen, are you all right lass?” Gwen turned her head slightly and looked into Rylen’s face that had a decidedly worried expression.

“What…?” she asked.

“Maker’s breath!” he exclaimed in relief. “You passed out lass. Dropped like a ton of rocks. Scared me to death.” He helped her as she struggled until she was sitting and no longer laying against his chest.

“How long was I out?”

“Just a couple of seconds.”

“Did either of you cancel the spell?” she asked looking at Nera who nervously shook her head.

“No lass, neither of us did. The spell dissipated naturally seconds after you fell.”

“Okay.” She held her hand out to Nera who tentatively grasped it and helped her to her feet. Rylen got to his feet. “Nera, how are you doing? Can you cast the spell again?”

“I’m… You want me to do that again – now?” she squeaked.

Gwen took a hold of the mage’s staff and propped it against her own shoulder while she took both of Nera’s hands in her own and looked at the elf. “You’re safe. I’m safe. Rylen’s safe. Are you, all right?”

“Y – yes. Yes, I am.”

“Good. Can you continue?”

Nera took a deep breath, “yes, I can.”

Gwen flashed her a big smile and handed the staff back, “good. Let’s try again.”

The second time lasted as long as the first attempt, but Gwen managed to keep conscious by maintaining small breathes throughout. The third attempt was a much better success as she managed to get her body to respond and move sooner than the previous times. She and Rylen walked Nera back to her camp, Rylen pausing at the edge again, to show everyone that Nera was being returned unharmed.

“Thank you for your help, Nera. Would you be up for another session tomorrow?” Gwen asked.

Nera nodded her head with a smile, “yes. I would like that.” Gwen grinned back at her and left; Liesel immediately jumped up and fussed over Nera to make sure she was fine.

She and Rylen headed back to main gates of Haven. “Well Rylen, I’m sure you have to make your report to the Commander. No one died and no abominations; I’m sure he’ll be relieved.”

“Aye, I will,” he snorted, “although I won’t be telling him like that. I don’t think he’d appreciate the humour.”

“No, you’re probably right. I don’t think he understands humour. See you at the tavern later?”

“I’ll see you there, lass.”


	6. Settling in

“How do you defend yourself if your magic gets cancelled or you run out of magicka, mana, or whatever you call it?” This question was asked after Gwen successfully managed to break out of the paralysis spell’s hold after only thirty seconds and lunging at Nera. Nera squeaked and tripped over her own feet backing away in surprise. “Do you not use your staff as a weapon?”

“Um, no. We’re not taught to use the staff for that purpose. It only helps us focus our magics.”

Gwen frowned, “Rylen, I saw a blade at the end of Solas’ staff. He definitely knows how to use it. Is that not normal?”

“Circle mages aren’t usually taught military combat with weapons. The battlemages of old were but with the tensions between the templar and mages over the last decade, those practices have been put aside.”

“You’re telling me that defenseless…” Gwen shook her head and put up her hand to stall Rylen’s protest. “No, never mind. We’re not going to get into that discussion. That’s history and there is a bigger issue here. Can you teach her how to use her staff as a weapon? I know blades and bows… and fists, but no idea how to use a quarterstaff to be able to teach someone else.”

“Aye, I know how. But does Nera want to learn?”

“Oh yes, please!” she replied excitedly.

Gwen gave Rylen a sly look, “Nera, think any of the other mages in your camp would be interested in learning as well?” He opened his mouth to protest and closed it again without saying a word.

“I’m sure that there would be others. But can we start today?” she asked eagerly looking back and forth between Rylen and Gwen.

“Aye. We’ll go through the basic forms today and tomorrow I’ll bring another staff so we can start sparring.”

Gwen sat down on a rock, smiling slightly as she watched Rylen instruct the little elven mage on how to use her staff. After over an hour of correcting her stance and grip and putting her through the various moves to block and attack, Nera was exhausted but had a brilliant smile on her face. They walked her back to the camp and then headed back to the main part of Haven.

“I know what you are doing,” Rylen said quietly as he and Gwen walked to the gates.

“Hmm, what’s that?” Gwen asked.

“The Commander won’t like it.”

Gwen stopped forcing him to stop and turn back to her. “I don’t really care if he likes it or not. No one should ever be made defenseless. If they can’t use their magic, then they should have other options. If this Inquisition isn’t going to allow them to participate then they need the option to take care of themselves. That includes being able to fight. No one should have their fates left in the hands of others because they can’t defend themselves.”

“Somehow I don’t think you’ve ever been defenseless.”

“No? Tell that to an eighteen-year old girl that found herself with her head on an executioner’s block because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and was unable to fight her way to freedom.”

As the days progressed, more of the refugees that were camped against the wall joined in the training sessions that Rylen and Gwen had started with Nera. The mages in the group were encouraged to cast their spells on Gwen and then had to defend themselves as she blew through the spells. This took mages by surprise at first much to her amusement but it was a good lesson especially those that had never really fought. As refugees trickled in from the Hinterlands, most that were physically able to fight tended to end up as new recruits but the odd mage hidden in the group eventually ended up in Gwen’s group once they discovered that they were welcome and safe.

* * *

Max and his group returned to Haven near the end of the week as expected. Mother Giselle had arrived just days earlier with a group of refugees, many of which required the attention of the healers. A few of people in Gwen’s little group had knowledge of healing or were skilled in healing magic offered to help much to the relief of Adan and the few existing healers.

“Commander!” Cassandra called out as they reached the outskirts of Haven where the troops were currently going through their exercises.

“Seeker Pentaghast, welcome back. Mother Giselle arrived two days ago. I trust you were successful in other areas as well.”

Cassandra scowled, “in some areas. We have much to discuss, Commander.”

Cullen turned his gaze across the space to where Gwen was currently sparring with Nera and a few others. “Yes, we most certainly do. Herald, if you will join us.” Max reluctantly tore his eyes from the sparring match and nodded, following Cullen and Cassandra to the Chantry.

Varric and Solas wandered over to watch the sparring match; Rylen greeted them. “Captain Rylen, it looks like you have your hands full,” Varric commented.

“Aye, you have no idea,” he chuckled. Both the dwarf and elf tensed up as an elven mage cast a fireball at Gwen. As the fireball engulfed her, Solas raised his staff to cast something to help Gwen. “Just wait,” Rylen held out a hand towards the mage. They watched incredulously as the fireball seemed to dissipate around her as she continued her sparring with the wooden sword against the mage.

Solas frowned in concentration, “she didn’t cast a barrier or otherwise dispel the magic,” he stated thoughtfully.

“No, our Gwen has some interesting abilities,” Rylen commented dryly.

“Our Gwen?” Varric asked eyeing Rylen. Rylen shifted his weight under the scrutiny and cleared his throat but didn’t respond. Gwen glanced over to Rylen and saw that Varric and Solas were with him. She flashed a grin and called a halt to the sparring session. After a brief hug around Nera’s shoulders, she and her friends headed back to their camp. Gwen gathered up her weapons and jogged over to where the three men stood.

“You’re back! Have fun in the Hinterlands?”

“Oh, it was a barrel of laughs. Templars, rebel mages, wolves, bears, and more bears. If Curly can get the watchtowers built, then we should have horses soon. What have you been up to?”

Gwen shrugged, “nothing much. Just staying out of trouble.” Rylen choked. “Something to say, Rylen?” she asked sweetly raising a brow.

“Not a thing, lass, but you have a strange definition of ‘staying out of trouble’.”

Gwen laughed, “it’s all fun and games until someone gets shot in the knee. I’m off to do some hunting; see you all at the tavern later?" The men nodded their agreement and to the last watched as Gwen headed out into the woods.

With the quickly growing numbers of refugees arriving in Haven, the cooks were struggling to keep up with the demand. Leliana’s scouts had been helping fill the demand and the population of nugs and rams were dwindling around the village so Gwen headed further out to try her luck of the far side of the lake where the scouts hadn’t ventured that often. She picked elfroot as she went stuffing it into her pack and soon she found herself humming the tune to “Ragnar the Red” under her breath. She passed the logging stand which was currently unattended and continued towards the thinning trees beyond it.

Climbing some rocks above the open meadow, she sat down to have a drink from her water skin and a little bit of some hard cheese as she studied the animals below her. It was a small herd of druffalo of just eight animals; a bull, a few cows, and three younger animals. She watched the animals for a while and noticed one of the cows had a bit of a limp. It was on the outside of the herd, not having been driven away yet but the segregation had started. The cow would eventually not be able to keep up or would be killed off by wolves when they came hunting again. She crept a bit closer to find a good spot to shoot from but also a route to escape if the druffalo did charge as Rylen had informed her. Just before the edge of the clearing was a stand of pine trees slightly downhill from the meadow and behind the trees, a narrow passage through the rocks to the lake which was too narrow for all but the youngest of the druffalo to enter would be her escape route. She climbed one of the trees bringing her line of sight level with the herd and jammed herself in the branches to secure herself. She readied one of her dragonbone arrows in her bow and sat patiently waiting for the injured cow to move into the correct position.

Gwen lost track of how long she sat in the tree, but she was aware that her legs below where they were wedged against the branches were starting to go a bit numb. She swung her legs a little bit and hissed in a breath as the pins and needles feeling skittered through her muscles. She hoped the druffalo would make its move soon before the sun moved into a bad position from her vantage otherwise she’d have to try another day or risk spooking the herd by moving to a different location. She plucked one of the elfroot leaves from her pack and chewed on it, not totally enjoying the astringent flavour but appreciated the rejuvenating effects on her muscles as she sat motionless in the tree again.

A bellow from the bull in the herd had her abruptly adjust her focus to see what prompted the noise. Along the far side of the meadow directly opposite her, she could see a few small dark shapes skirt the edge of the treeline. She wasn’t entirely sure, but it was a good chance it was the wolves she saw the last time she was out here. Hopefully the wolves would drive the herd closer to her position. She watched closely as the herd started moving; the cow she had targeted earlier was showing a definite limp as it tried to move faster to keep up with the rest of the herd. Gwen raised her bow with the three-pronged dragonbone arrow notched. The wolves saw the cow as well and split the herd scattering the other animals. Gwen drew back on the bow string drawing in her breath slowly letting her shoulders roll back and down, and her elbow in line with the arrow. The cow, realising her danger, stopped to turn to face the approaching wolves; as she did so, presented her broad side to Gwen’s view. With a quick prayer to Noctural to grant her luck, Gwen aimed immediately at a point behind the druffalo’s elbow; drawing in another slow breath, she opened her fingers with a quick smooth motion releasing the arrow. The arrow flew through the air and hit the cow with a solid thunk sinking deep into the flesh. The druffalo bellowed and whipped its head around to Gwen’s direction. The wolves sensing an opening rushed the injured druffalo causing it to stampede towards Gwen’s direction. She quickly pulled another arrow out and felled one wolf and then another in quick succession just like she did many times before in the wilderness of Skyrim. The third wolf veered away out of danger. The druffalo was still charging at Gwen’s tree, but head on with that large heavy skull and horns, she didn’t have a good angle to hit it again. Hopefully the first arrow had been enough to do the job. It did. The druffalo stumbled but immediately regained its footing without losing any speed. Gwen realised that the druffalo was going to hit her tree. She wrapped her arm around the trunk in anticipation of the hit. The druffalo stumbled again and slammed its entire mass against her tree; pine needles showered down on her head and she hung onto the tree. The tree creaked and groaned, then suddenly there was a loud _pop pop snap_ , and the world started shifting around Gwen as the tree started to fall. There was no good way to ride a tree down as it fell so she watched for an opening to get clear of the tree and jumped. Branches whipped past her face and snagged her hair and clothing as she jumped in through the gap in the rocks she had earlier identified as her escape route. Her tree crashed to the rocks spraying her with more needles, twigs, and snow. Gwen cackled with glee with her wild ride.

She ducked back out to the meadow carefully keeping an eye out for the other wolf and the herd; her druffalo was dead. She cautiously moved out and grabbed the two wolves as they were useful especially in the cold climate and headed back to Haven. She dropped the wolves off with Harritt so his people could dress and cure the hide. She ignored the shocked and curious looks as she passed the sparring grounds and took the steps up through the gates two at a time as she headed to the tavern. She’d let Flissa know about the druffalo and she could let the cook know to get his people out to take care of it.

Max and Varric looked up as she got to the top of the stairs in front of Varric’s campfire. “Maker’s breath, Gwen! What happened to you?” Max asked looking horrified at the scrapes on her face, the rip on one sleeve, and the litter of tree bits caught up in her hair.

“I jumped out of a tree.”

Max sputtered, “why?”

“It was falling. It seemed like a better option to jump than end up on the wrong side when it hit the ground.”

The two men looked thoroughly confused. Gwen shrugged, “the tree fell when the druffalo I was hunting hit it.”

“You didn’t…” Gwen was spun around with a hand on her elbow by Rylen, who had just come from discussing some requisitions with Threnn. He stared at her with a thunderous look on his face. “What in the Void were you thinking? I told you they were dangerous and you shouldna hunt them – especially alone. Ye coulda been killed!” Rylen’s brogue was getting stronger with his agitation.

Gwen raised her chin as she jerked her elbow out of his grasp. She drew herself up in a stance that had intimidated many men in the past despite her small stature and looked Rylen in the eye. Behind her she heard Max draw in a hissed breath. “We need the meat. I killed it with a single shot. The tree would have been perfectly safe if the wolves hadn’t spooked the druffalo.”

“Andraste’s ass,” muttered Varric.

“Wolves!” Rylen shouted.

“Yes, I took down two and the third ran off. Harritt has them. Now if you don’t mind, I need to let the cooks know about the meat before the other wolf comes back and steals any of my kill, followed by a bath to get this pine sap out of my hair.” She turned away from him, “gentlemen,” she nodded to Max and Varric, and headed to the tavern.

Varric chuckled, “good luck with that one, Captain.”

“It’s not funny…”

“Oh yes, it really is,” the dwarf chuckled pulling out his notebook and jotting down some notes in it as Rylen stormed off in the direction of the training field.

“You know, Varric,” Max said thoughtfully. “You and Bianca might have some serious competition.”

“Hey now! That isn’t funny,” he grumbled.

“Oh yes, it really is,” Max grinned.

* * *

Gwen showed up at the tavern for the evening meal wondering at what reception she was going to get from Rylen. Varric waved her over when she entered. “Hey Varric, you here on your own?”

“Nah, Max is just over getting drinks,” he nodded towards the bar. Gwen followed his gaze and then scanned the rest of the room. “He’s not here.”

“Who?” Gwen looked back at Varric.

“Your Starkhaven captain.”

Gwen frowned looking at the dwarf, “he’s not mine.” A little smile tugged on Varric’s lips. She shrugged as she sat down, “I’m sure he had duties to attend.”

Max came over with a big jug of ale and some mugs. He pulled out something out of a pocket and tossed it onto the table. “Flissa said the cook thought you might want that back. Steaks are coming.”

Varric picked up the three-pronged arrow head to examine it. “This is what you used to bring down the druffalo? What is it made of?”

“Dragon bone. They go through pretty much anything short of solid stone. They shatter if they hit dragon bone which still works to your advantage, and they will go through scale.”

Cassandra and Solas entered the tavern and sat down at the table with them. “Lady Dragonborn, I wanted to express my apology to you; the Commander and Sister Leliana informed us,” Cassandra nodded towards Max, “what happened. I understand you have taken it upon yourself to train the elven mage who was forced to attack you how to defend herself?” Solas raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Yes, she didn’t know how to defend herself without magic so with Rylen’s assistance, we’ve been teaching her to use the staff.”

“That is what you were doing earlier today, and you permit her to cast against you?” Solas asked.

“Yes. It’s important that she be able to maintain focus to use her magic but then adapt to using her staff if the magic doesn’t stop her opponent.”

“I’m curious. I could not sense any magical defence on your part and yet you were unaffected by the fireball she cast. How did you defend yourself against it?”

“It was unnecessary to do so as I am natural resistant to many hostile magics.”

Solas’ brow raised again. “I have never heard of such a thing. If you are willing, I would like to speak with you further on your magical abilities and resistances.”

“Sure Solas. We can spar if you like, also.” Solas tipped his head in a slight nod of acknowledgement.

“I understand, from the Commander, that you do not predominantly fight with magic?” Cassandra asked.

“No, I prefer dual swords. I will spar with you, if you wish.”

Cassandra smiled, “I would like that.”

They sat in the tavern drinking and telling tales late into the night. Cassandra and Solas excused themselves when the cards came out so Varric and Max took it upon themselves to teach Gwen how to play Wicked Grace. Finally, Flissa kicked them out of the tavern. They staggered across Haven dropping Varric off at his tent, then continued to the cabin that they shared. Upon entering the cabin, Gwen yanked her tunic over her head with a sigh. She looked over her shoulder as she heard Max gasp. He was averting his eyes as his ears were turning pink. “I’m sorry, Max. Have I made you uncomfortable? I’m so used to living in communal groups and didn’t think.” She ducked behind the screen placed between their areas to finish preparing for bed.

“Ah… It’s okay. I was just surprised. I’ve been travelling with Cass for the last two weeks and she’s very private.”

“I will try to remember.”

“Um… Can I ask… You don’t have to answer if it is something you don’t wish to talk about, but the scars on your back…”

“The burns, you mean?” she asked, looking at Max who was still flushed with embarrassment for having seen enough of her body to ask a question. He nodded. “The town I was held in for execution was attacked by a dragon, Alduin. Fortunately for me, he attacked just as I was pushed down to the headsman’s block and it allowed me to escape in the chaos. I followed some other prisoners into a building which was heavily damaged by the dragon and we had to jump through a burning roof of another building to escape. I was burnt as a result. I rode back through that town months later and it looked very much like your temple up on the hill, minus the rifts and red lyrium, of course. More bandits though.” She settled into her bed snuggling down under the blankets; she could hear Max moving around on the other side of the screen followed by a creak as the ropes of his bed shifted under his weight. “What are the plans now that you have returned from the Hinterlands?”

“They’re sending letters to the clerics in the Chantry to arrange a meeting. We’ll be going to Val Royeaux soon depending on the response we get.  I... um… I’m not sure what their plans are for you.”

Gwen shrugged in her bed but realised he couldn’t see her response. “It doesn’t matter. It’s rather relaxing to spend my time hunting for a change.”

Max snorted, “like hunting druffalo from a tree.”

“The theory was sound if the accursed thing’s roots wouldn’t have let go of the ground,” she giggled.


	7. First Quest

“Lady Dragonborn,” the scout called out tentatively to Gwen as she was sparring with both Nera and Liesel. Gwen called a halt and walked over to the scout. “Sister Leliana has asked that you meet her in the Chantry. She will meet with you as soon as you can join her.” The scout saluted her and ran off to attend to other duties.

Gwen said goodbye to her friends and jogged up to the gates of Haven casting a quick glance over to where Rylen was running the recruits through drills. It had been three days and he still hadn’t spoken with her; her daily training sessions with the mages were being supervised by another Templar, to the initial alarm of the mages. She didn’t see him in the tavern for meals when they would normally meet. Varric was chuckling about a “lover’s spat” which didn’t make any sense at all to her; there had been no pledges in the name of Mara, or even any discussion of interest at all. She thought she might call him friend, but even then, he was simply doing his duty to keep an eye on her for his superiors. _Varric was wrong_.

She ducked her head into Leliana’s tent, the scout there directed her to the Chantry. She strolled into the cavernous building. Since that Mother Giselle had shown up, the space was always occupied by someone chanting verses to their gods and waving around heavily scented smoke. It reminded her of the Temple of the Divines after Ulfric captured Solitude and reinstated the worship of Talos, the sudden outpouring of the faithful once again had flocked to the temple and the priests and priestesses rose to the occasion. The doors to the war room were closed and she could hear voices within so she settled onto a bench in one of the alcoves to wait. Tucked in her corner she watched people come and go, messengers, scouts, and various people dressed in religious garb.

The door opened to the war room. Max and Cassandra strode with Cullen right behind them; heading out of the Chantry to return to the training field. Max liked sparring with Cassandra when he could. Gwen smirked at his eagerness. Gwen stood up when she saw Leliana leave the war room with Josephine, who had a quick last word with the Ambassador and turned to leave. Gwen stepped out of her alcove and joined Leliana as she walked out of the Chantry to her tent. “You wish to see me, Sister Leliana?”

“Yes. Several months ago, the Grey Wardens of Ferelden and Orlais vanished. Ordinarily I wouldn’t consider them involved in this, but the timing is… disturbing. The others have disregarded my suspicion, but I can not ignore it. As I’m sure you are aware, the Herald will be taking his companions to Val Royeaux to meet with several members of the Chantry. Two days ago, my agents in the Hinterlands sent word of a Grey Warden by the name of Blackwall. I would like you to go to the Hinterlands and seek him out. Perhaps he can put my mind at ease.”

“And if he can’t?”

“Then there may be more going on than we realize. You will be leading the group and will be accompanied by two of my scouts, Pala and Hall,” Leliana said waving over an dwarven woman and a human man, respectively.

“Do you have any specific areas in the Hinterlands that we should be looking?”

“The last reported sighting was from the scouts at the Upper Lake camp. You will be able to replenish your supplies at the Outskirts camp before making your way to the next. The scouts already there will be able to provide any updated information once you arrive.”

Gwen and the other two scouts arranged to meet at the gates the following morning at dawn. She spoke with Threnn who arranged for the packs they would need for the trip to be ready for them which she would pick up. She headed down to the smithy to make sure her weapons were prepared for the trip and also to coax some Inquisition scout armour out of Harritt; her dragonscale armour was well suited to combat but she preferred not to travel and scout on foot with it. She smiled as she left, Harritt was all too happy to give her some scouting armour in exchange for her leaving her armour for him to examine while she was in the Hinterlands.

She headed over to the pilgrim’s camp to let Nera and Liesel know she would be unable for a while. The camp was getting bigger as more people continued to arrive from the Hinterlands, fortunately as resources continued to arrive in Haven, the condition of the camp also improved. “Nera! I’m leaving for the Hinterlands in the morning so I won’t be able to train with you for a while. If you still want to train while I’m away, speak with Knight-Captain Rylen, all right?”

Nera looked distressed, “he hasn’t been training with us lately. Do you think he’ll still help? I don’t want to train with the others if you aren’t here.”

Gwen sighed, “let me talk to him for you. I’ll ask him to come to you directly if, and when, he has time to train. If he can’t you and Liesel can still spar together; maybe just don’t do any casting.” The elf nodded her head and then gave Gwen a shy, quick hug and wished her luck before running off back to her camp.

Gwen walked over to the training area. Rylen was in the middle of supervising the recruits running drills. She stood at the side of him waiting for him to acknowledge her. “Sutton, yer droppin’ your right shoulder again!” Rylen barked as he paced back and forth watching the soldiers. “Come on Trembley, move your feet!” Rylen glanced out the corner of his eye at the woman standing next to him. Her cheeks, nose, and forehead had a slight rosy appearance from the cold and wind; the scars across her face were a pale contrast.

“Knight-Captain…” Gwen started. “Rylen…”

“All right men! Take a break and get a drink. We’ll resume in ten,” Rylen hollered. “What can I do for you, my lady?” he asked turning to her.

Gwen frowned slightly in disappointment, “you’re still angry.”

He sighed, “aye, lass. I am.”

“Why? Because you doubt my abilities? Because I went on my own?”

“I told you the druffalo were dangerous and ye went anyways and were injured. You could have been killed and no one would have known where you were.”

“Getting lashed by a few branches is not an injury! I had an escape route…”

“Which didn’t help when the tree fell!”

“Well it did actually…”

“And ye still shouldna have gone alone!” he interrupted her. Rylen growled in frustration running his hand through his hair, “ye wee stubborn…”

Gwen narrowed her eyes. “Think carefully how you want to finish that statement, _Knight-Captain_ ,” she told him before spinning away and then she paused, _damn it to Oblivion! I still need ask him for a favour for Nera!_ She turned back to the frustrated captain, “look, I have come on Nera’s behalf. I’m leaving for the Hinterlands in the morning. Nera would like to continue training but she doesn’t feel comfortable doing so with another templar on her own. She feels comfortable with you. Would you help her while I’m away?” He started to raise his hand; his fingers twitched in his desire to tuck the long strands of dark red hair that blew across her face having escaped the twisted braid that lay over her shoulder falling to her waist. He crossed his arms instead and waited. “If you don’t want to help…” she huffed and started to leave.

“I will help Nera for you, but I want something in return,” he replied casually.

Gwen stopped in her tracks and spun around, “I have to buy your cooperation?” she asked hotly.

“Aye, lass. You do.”

“Of all the – ”

“Before you leave in the morning, I want to have a word with you. That’s the price.”

“Fine. I’m meeting my team at dawn at the gates.”

“Good, I’ll see you there as well,” he told her. Then without further word, he turned back to the recruits and barked at them that the break was over and Gwen found herself dismissed. She stormed off the field grumbling about obstinate men.

Gwen dropped off her new scout armour in the cabin and packed the extra supplies she wanted to take with her. She sat on the bed packing thinking about the upcoming task; it would be good to get out of the village and see more of this world. As much as she told Max that she was enjoying the relaxation of hunting, in truth she was becoming restless with the inactivity she had been experiencing since arriving in this strange land. Certainly, she had planned to take fewer jobs after returning from killing Alduin in Sovngarde; she still had the Thieves Guild to run and her shield-siblings would always be there to join her to hunt down bandits or Forsworn as needed, but it would be by her choice if she took such jobs. Here, she was cooling her heels at the whim of others and she was chafing at the restriction. She couldn’t wait to get out into wilderness again. Maybe, she hoped, she’d come across a dragon she could hunt.

“There you are,” Max said letting the door bang on the wall as he breezed into the cabin. He grabbed her hand and hauled her up off the bed. “Come on, we heard you are leaving for the Hinterlands tomorrow.”

“I still have things to do Max.”

“No, you don’t. Threnn’s putting together your supplies, you have your armour right here, and Harritt said you’d already been by to take care of your weapons. You’ve packed your own supplies so you’re ready to go. You’re coming to the tavern right now,” he said tugging on her hand. “I’m not taking no for an answer.” Gwen giggled, she couldn’t resist his enthusiasm. They burst into the tavern, “I found her!”

“Excellent!” Varric called out raising his mug. “You can’t go off on your first mission without having drinks with us first.”

Gwen laughed, “it’s hardly my first mission.”

“It is for the Inquisition,” Max replied as he pushed her down into a chair and thumped a tumbler of ale in front of her and dropped into his own chair next to Cassandra. Gwen smiled to herself, she wondered if the dark-haired warrior was aware of his infatuation.

“Leliana told us that you are going to the Hinterlands to look for a Grey Warden. The road there should be mostly safe but there are still some bandits that prey on refugees so be cautious,” Cassandra advised her.

“And don’t forget the bears, right Seeker?” Cassandra made a disgusted noise but otherwise ignored Varric. “Who’s going with you, Rosy?”

“Rosy?” Gwen asked.

“Hmm. Yeah, not sure about that nickname – I’ll keep working on it.”

“I’m going with Pala and Hall.”

Varric snickered, “well that will be a _chatty_ group.”

“What do you mean?” she asked sipping her ale.

“Well Hall isn’t the most social of persons. He’s human but was raised by the Dalish when the found him orphaned as a child, but as soon as he could fend for himself he was kicked out of the clan. He’s been on his own, more or less, since then but he’s good with a bow and a good tracker. And Pala,” he took a drink of ale, “she’s a Silent Sister.”

“Ah,” Solas commented. “I’ve heard of the Silent Sisters. An order of dwarven female warriors dedicated to the art of war. They cut out their own tongues as part of their dedication.” The others around the table cringed.

“Well, at least then Gwen won’t be subjected to inane stories as we are,” Cassandra commented.

“Admit it Seeker, you find my stories entertaining on those long walks.”

She scoffed, “a little silence would more often be appreciated.” Both Solas and Max smiled at the banter between the two.

“Are they usually like this?” Gwen asked no one in particular.

“Yes,” “No,” Max and Cassandra both answered at the same time. Varric chuckled and waved Flissa over for another round of drinks.

* * *

Gwen woke up in the pre-dawn hours. Laying awake in the bed she listened to Max snoring away in his bed on the other side of the screen. Outside, she could hear the village start to rouse as the bakers and cooks greeted each other as they went about preparing for the day. She threw off the blankets from her bed and shivered in the cool morning air; the temperature really wasn’t that different than what she was used to, but on some mornings she still missed the warmer weather of High Rock. Sitting up, she stretched and silently groaned as her muscles released their hold on sleep. She cast a small magelight letting it hover over the bed as she quietly removed her night clothes and replaced them with her under garments, an undershirt, tunic, leather breeches, and her boots. Quickly braiding her hair, she wrapped the braid around her head coiling the end into a bun which she secured with the dragonbone shiv. She pulled on the new leather scout armour adjusting it until she was happy how it formed snug to her shape. It wasn’t that unlike her Thieves Guild armour. Next were the belts and scabbards for her daggers and which where then covered by her cloak, she looped the belts for the swords, bow, and quiver over her arm to put on later. Satisfied she had everything she needed from the cabin, she slipped out silently so not to disturb Max.

She jogged up the steps heading to Threnn’s tent; the surly quartermaster was up and grunted at Gwen pointing to three packs set to the side of the tent. _And a cheery good morning to you too,_ Gwen thought before she thanked the woman as she grabbed the packs and headed down to the gate. The gates were being opened as she arrived but the other two scouts hadn’t arrived yet. Setting down the packs, she placed her sword scabbards on over her shoulders followed by the quiver and bow so the weapons all set comfortably and easy for her to access in a hurry.

A hand reached out and adjusted a strap onto her shoulder, “here, let me help you with that lass.”

“You shouldn’t sneak up on me. You never know if I’ll take your head off.”

Rylen gave a soft snort of laughter as he stepped around in front of her. “I trust you won’t. Even if I deserve it.” He lifted his hand from her shoulder and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve never seen you wear your hair like this.”

“It keeps it out of the way of packs and straps when travelling,” she replied watching his face.

He hmmmed to himself. She steeled herself from jumping in surprise when he brought both hands up on either side of her neck, his thumb stroked gently against the scar along the side of her cheek and jaw not unlike the one on his own face. His blue eyes flicked down at her lips before he pulled her forward and kissed her on the forehead. “Andraste guide you. Be safe lass,” he said quietly before releasing her and walking past her up into Haven taking the steps two at a time. Gwen turned to follow him only to see her two travel companions coming down the stairs to join her. It was time to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh those two are persistent!


	8. A Grey Warden

The trip into the Hinterlands was uneventful; half a day from Haven they had to temporarily abandon the road as the horses promised by Dennett passed on their way to the village. _At least Max and the rest will have horses to head to Val Royeaux,_ she thought. They came across groups of refugees travelling from the area, individuals wishing to join the Inquisition, and the odd merchant bringing goods to Haven. On the second day, they helped a small group of travellers whose cart had broken a broken a wheel. After some work, they managed to bind the wheel so it would hold until they arrived in Haven. Varric was right, the group was very quiet as they travelled. Hall would occasionally answer questions directed to him but usually only yes or no answers. Pala seemed more inclined to communicate but did so with whistles, so again it was a one-sided conversation culminated in yes and no answers. They arrived in the Outskirts camp where they were welcomed by the Inquisition scouts stationed there.

“Hello lady Dragonborn! I was hoping you would be arriving today so I would be able to finally meet you,” said a pretty dwarven woman with light auburn hair done up in an braided bun. “I’m Scout Harding. Sister Leliana has told me much about you and I’m glad you are here before I had to leave on my next posting. Is it true you can breathe fire?”

“It’s nice to meet you Scout Harding. Please call me Gwen. And yes, I can breathe fire.”

“Huh, fancy that. You can call me Lace,” she replied waving her over to the ridge of the camp that overlooked the village in the valley below. “That’s the Crossroads below us. If you need any supplies other than what we have in camp, there is a merchant down there. Corporal Vale is also stationed down there so he can render assistance if you need it. The last reported sighting of a Warden was in the direction of the Upper Lake camp,” Harding thumbed over her shoulder in the general direction. “That sighting was a day ago and word is he was moving into the hills. It’ll take you a couple of hours to get to the Upper Lake camp from here. There are a lot of bears in the area so I recommend travelling during daylight. If you don’t need any supplies, you could make it to that camp before dark today.”

“Thank you Lace. I hope to see you again some time.”

“You can count on it,” the dwarf responded with a smile as she excused herself to prepare for her own departure.

Gwen wandered over to where Pala and Hall had sat down to wait for her. “Well, Scout Harding says we can make it to the next camp before dark. That’ll put us in the right direction to find the Warden. If neither of you need to visit the village below, I’d like to push on to cut down the distance between us and that Warden.” The two scouts agreed to push on.

The Upper Lake camp was nestled into another ridge along the hills. The scouts welcomed them and soon served them dinner from the communal stew pot which was a nice change from the dry rations they had been consuming on the road. They confirmed the information that Harding had given them on the Warden and didn’t have anything new to add unfortunately. Gwen lounged against a log with her back towards the camp fire as she stared up into the night sky. The travelling with some companions, exploring the countryside, she could almost imagine that she was back in Skyrim. There were even two moons just like at home although the constellations were different. It made her wonder for the first time if she was still on the same world but a vastly different part of it. It would explain some things. Perhaps it was something she could ask the elf, Solas, about since he seemed so very eager to study and explore the world. Maybe he could help her find the way back.

In the morning, they left their supplies at the camp and headed up the mountain in the last direction suggested the Warden had headed. Emerging from the trees, they came across a small mountain lake. Someone, at some point, made a home here as there was a small pier in poor repair and scattered fish traps present. On the far side of the small mountain lake beyond the pier was a small house that had also seen better days. Gwen could see a well armoured man pacing back and forth before a bunch of peasants that looked nervous and ill-equipped. “That might be our Warden,” she said quietly to her companions. She waved Hall to flank their position in case the man was not who they sought and was hostile. She beckoned Pala to follow her and then hold position behind some rocks.

She crept closer, until she could hear the man. “Remember how to carry your shields,” he coached the young men with a gruff voice. “You’re not hiding, you’re holding, otherwise it’s useless.” His clothing looked road worn but cared for, and he had one of the most interesting beards she had ever seen and she had seen the Greybeards.

She signalled Pala and Hall to remain in their positions, then stepped out from the spot she was crouched beside the boulders along the lake shore. “Blackwall? Warden Blackwall?” Gwen called out to him as she approached with her hands empty and visible.

“You’re not – how do you know my name? Who sent…” he asked before he jerked his shield up to intercept an arrow. “That’s it, help or get out. We’re dealing with these idiots first.” Gwen whistled to her companions and drew her swords on a bandit that came storming at her quickly taking him out. Hall took out an archer and Pala ambushed another archer that had tried to flank the peasants. The battle didn’t last long at all between the four experienced warriors and the peasant recruits. The Warden dismissed the peasants back to their families with some further words of encouragement before turning back to Gwen and her group. “You’re no farmer. Why do you know my name? Who are you?”

“I’m here investigating Grey Wardens for the Inquisition,” Gwen replied sheathing her swords. “We’re trying to determine if their disappearance has anything to do with the murder of the Divine.”

“Maker’s Balls, the Grey Wardens and the Divine? That can’t – no, you’re asking so you don’t know. First off, I didn’t know that they disappeared but we do that right? No more Blight, job done, Wardens are the first to be forgotten. But one thing I’ll tell you, no Warden would kill the Divine. Our purpose isn’t political.”

“I’m not here to accuse anyone yet. I’m seeking information. I’ve only found you. Where would the rest be?”

“I haven’t seen any Wardens for months. I travel alone, recruiting. Not much interest because the Archdemon is a decade dead, and no need to conscript with no Blight coming. I just helped these poor sods defend themselves against bandits that have been preying on them. Wardens can inspire, make you better than you think you are. They won’t need my help next time.”

“Well thank you Warden Blackwall. Now where does that leave us?” Gwen said turning away.

“Inquisition… agent, did you say? Hold a moment. The Wardens being missing is almost as bad as thinking we are involved. If you are trying to put things right, maybe you need a Warden. Maybe you need me.”

“What can one Warden do?” she asked turning back to him.

“Save the fucking world if need be.”

Gwen grinned at his response. “Warden Blackwall, the Inquisition accepts your offer,” she said shaking his hand. “I am Gwenaëlle, but you can call me Gwen or Dragonborn.”

“You said that you’re an agent – what do you normally do for the Inquisition?”

“Mostly, I hunt.” Suddenly Gwen whipped her bow off her shoulder and drew an arrow in one smooth swift motion letting it fly past Blackwall’s head. He jerked drawing his sword. “Fucking bears.”

Blackwall spun around in time to see the bear collapse behind him. “Fortunately for me, you’re good at it, my lady.”

Gwen smirked, “If you are ready, you can join us to head back to Haven. Sister Leliana is eager to speak with you.” She introduced Blackwall to Hall and Pala, and hoped that Blackwall would be more inclined to talk then her current companions. They headed back down to the camp where she informed the scouts there of the bear that they could harvest for the refugees in the camp and she agreed to take back some extra sacks of herbs that grew around the lake for Adan.

They headed down to the Outskirts camp to spend the night and head out again on the Kingsroad back to Haven in the morning. Gwen found Blackwall standing on the ridge looking down into the lights of the village. “I tried to do what I can here, but with the Inquisition, I can do more. The mage conflict has been hard on the people here, and hundreds of people have had their homes destroyed by the demons.”

“Hmmm, wars are always hardest on those that are caught between.” A thin wail of a child rose on the quiet night breeze from the village below. “Especially the children. As resilient as they are, they don’t understand what is going on. Or why their mamae or papa aren’t coming home again.” Beside her the grizzled man bowed his head and cleared his throat. “We do what we can,” she clapped him on the shoulder and left him with his thoughts as she returned to the campfire.

The walk back to Haven was just as quiet as the walk out. A day out from Haven, as Pala and Hall walked ahead, Blackwall approached Gwen. “My lady, what you said the other night about the children; it sounded that you had first hand knowledge. Were you orphaned in such as way?”

Gwen looked up at the dark-haired man. “No,” she said softly looking down at the packed dirt road below her feet as they walked, “but I’ve made so many.”

He looked at the young woman beside him in surprise, “you’re not much more that a child yourself.”

“And yet for five years I have fought on the front lines, led the assault on fortified cities filled with civilians, and destroyed enemy encampments. A bloody civil war.” The man studied her re-evaluating his first impression. “I adopted a girl two years ago at the end of the war. Her father died as a soldier for the other side. It’s not likely I was the one to kill him; he died long before I started fighting in that end of the country, but how many more am I responsible for making orphan? We can never do enough to undo what has been done, but every little bit helps to atone for those actions.”

When they arrived in Haven Gwen grabbed the issued packs to return to Threnn, dismissed the other two scouts, and escorted Blackwall to Leliana. She didn’t envy him for his interview with the Spymaster. “Warden Blackwall, after you are finished with Sister Leliana, if you would like a tour of Haven you can find me in my cabin. Take the first set of stairs toward the gate we came in, hang a right, and it’s the cabin at the far end.” She bowed to Leliana and excused herself.

She headed over to Adan’s hut with her sacks of Blood Lotus, she grinned to herself when she was close enough to hear the alchemist grumbling to his apprentices. She let herself into the hut, “Adan, you grouchy ol’ fart! I brought you flowers to cheer you up.” She tossed him the sacks she was carrying. The eyes of several apprentices opened wide that someone would speak to Adan in that manner.

The alchemist scowled at her for a moment before barking out a laugh when he looked in one of the sacks stuffed to the brim with Blood Lotus. “Ha! I’ll accept flowers from you any day,” he replied with glee looking at the plants. Gwen laughed and gave a wave as she left.

Gwen finally made to her shared cabin. She dropped her own pack on the floor and shed the weapons onto the bed. Groaning she stretched out her muscles that were tired from the constant walking over the past week. Sitting in Haven for all those weeks had made her soft. Pulling off the armour, she set it aside to return to Harritt; it served her well, she’d have to see about some coin so could purchase some from him. A knock at the door got her attention. “Blackwall, I see you survived your interview with Leliana.”

“Yes. The Inquisition seems to have a thing for collecting fierce redheads.” Gwen raised a brow at him. He cleared his throat as he glanced away, “she said you would be able to show me to the smithy. There is an available bed in the quarters there.”

“Certainly. As it turns out, that is one of my next stops so I’d be happy to show you the way,” she said as she picked up the armour and gestured for him to proceed her through the door. They talked a bit as she pointed out a few things around the lower part of Haven. Gwen paused for a moment her eyes darting over the soldiers to find Rylen having heard his voice calling out instructions to the training recruits.

“Gwen?”

“Sorry, Blackwall. The smithy is this way,” she led him down the stairs and to the left along the edge of the frozen lake.

“Maker, look at it.” Blackwall stopped and stared at the Breach. “To think that the Herald was in that and walked out of it. What’s the Herald like?”

“I like him. He’s kind and capable, and gives a damn. Haven’t seen him fight because they keep sending us in opposite directions. Here we are. Harritt – you have a new room mate. This is Warden Blackwall,” she introduced the two men.

“Ah you’re back girl. How was the armour for you?”

“Wonderful. I’ll have to see about some coin to buy it from you.”

The smith scoffed, “no need, I’ll square up with the Ambassador. We’ll do any repairs and alterations for you and it’s yours. I’ve also made some minor repairs to your other armour,” he led her over to the dragonscale on a stand to show her what he had done.

Blackwall’s eyes widened, “this is yours?” Gwen nodded. “You’re not just a hunter.” He looked at her with a new perspective putting together what she had told him about her field experience, and the armour before him. 

Gwen snickered, “no, I’m not. I just told you what the Inquisition has me doing. Thanks for the repairs Harritt, I’ll pick it up on my way back.”

“I’ll have one of the apprentices bring it to your cabin when the other armour is ready. You’ll have them both by the morning. Warden,” he turned to Blackwall guiding him to the building beside the smithy, “I’ll show you your cot.”

Gwen waited for Blackwall to re-emerge from the cabin. “If you don’t mind accompanying me on a personal task, I can take you up to the tavern where we get most of our meals. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

Blackwall smiled which was largely lost in his beard and mustache but Gwen caught the crinkle at the corner of his eyes. “Sounds good to me.”

She led him to the pilgrim camp on the edge of the village. Nera spotted Gwen and squealed jumping up from her spot around one of the campfires. Flinging her arms around Gwen, she gave her a hug. “You’re back! I missed you. How was the Hinterlands? Captain Rylen came and trained with us four times when you were away,” Nera said in one long excited statement.

“Did he? That’s good. The Hinterlands were good; I found my prey. This is Warden Blackwall. Blackwall, my friend Nera,” Gwen introduced them laughing at Nera’s enthusiasm.

Nera squeaked, “a Grey Warden!” She shook Blackwall’s hand shyly in awe of a famed warrior.

“Do you want to spar tomorrow?” Gwen asked her. Nera nodded her head vigorously. “All right, I’ll come and get you,” she said giving the elf a quick hug before she left.

They headed up to the tavern; Gwen gestured for Blackwall to take a seat at the table she preferred while she went to get drinks from Flissa and ordered some food for the two of them. She had just sat down when a hand gripped her shoulder, “I see you're back, lass.”

“Yes, just got back a few hours ago. Will you join us?” she asked Rylen as she looked up at him from her seat. His hand firm and warm still rested on her shoulder.

“Aye, I will.”

“Good. Rylen meet Warden Blackwall. Blackwall, Knight-Captain Rylen,” she introduced the men.

Rylen reached out and met the other man’s hand making eye contact with him without releasing Gwen’s shoulder. Blackwall narrowed his eyes slightly at the younger man flicking a glance to the possessive hand on the woman’s shoulder, _so that’s how it is,_ he thought.


	9. A Friend Arrives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the shorter chapter, but it made sense to break it where I did. More fun coming!
> 
> Thank you for kudos, subscriptions, and comments! I love hearing from readers :)

“Halllllllooooooo!” Everyone turned their attention to the Kingsroad as Max came riding up over the ridge with a long-suffering Cassandra behind him. Varric followed on his pony, chuckling at the antics of the Herald. Solas, as usual, was his normal silent, placid self. And there was a fifth horse. Perched on top was the most garish display of yellow plaidweave and red anyone had ever seen in the form of an elf.

Gwen called a halt to the sparring she was doing with Nera and Liesel as she had promised the day before, as the group drew up in front of the stable area. Dennett and his stable help rushed out to secure the horses. “Quite the entrance there, Max,” Gwen laughed.

“Well you never know when someone might be sitting in a tree. Would hate to be mistaken for a druffalo,” he joked back.

“Sorry to say but you sounded more like a druffalo than not with that noise,” she jibed back. Varric snorted with laughter.

“Gwen, come meet our new addition. This is Sera. She’s deadly with the bow, probably the most… uh…” Max started stumbling over his words. “Well, you two should compare notes.” Sera just stood back eyeing Gwen.

“I have someone for you to meet as well, Max. This is Warden Blackwall,” Gwen said waving over the older man who had been leaning against the stone wall around the smithy watching the sparring. “I went hunting in the Hinterlands and bagged my prey.” The men shook hands and further introductions were made. Max mentioned that another mage would be joining them soon. The group was growing. Gwen headed back to her sparring partners while the others filed into Haven to debrief and get settled from their trip. With Nera and Liesel sent back to their camp, she dropped off her weapons in her shared cabin and headed over to Varric’s campfire to get the gossip from him about their trip to Val Royeaux.

* * *

“Commander! There is black swirling mist coming up in the middle of the lake ser!” the soldier blurted out as he rushed into the war room. “We haven’t spotted any demons but no one knows what it is.” Cullen, Max, and Cassandra rushed out of the Chantry following the soldier to the lake.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Varric asked as they rushed by his fire.

“There’s a strange black mist on the lake,” Max said as he rushed past.

“A black mist?” Gwen repeated puzzled. Suddenly her eyes widened, it couldn’t be. She shot to her feet and rushed to the lake as well with a dwarf hurrying behind her, swearing. A third of the way out onto the lake, a dark mist slowly circled keeping low to the ice. The soldiers shifted uncomfortably as they looked to each other uncertain what they should do. Gwen pushed to the front of the circle where Cullen, Max, and Cassandra stood with their weapons drawn. There was the sound of thunder that rolled across the ice; she gasped, it was what she thought it was. She dashed to the smithy and grabbed an axe and rushed out onto the ice. Sliding up to the mist, she raised the axe over her head and slammed it down onto the ice.

“Gwen! What are you doing?” Max called frantically.

“Help me! We have to break the ice,” she panted as she slammed the axe into the ice again creating a crack.

“Everyone, get back off the ice,” Cullen called waving the soldiers back.

“I hope you know what you are doing,” Max said as he slammed his axe into the ice. The black mist started swirling faster as greasy black bubbles rose and popped along the surface of the ice not unlike the ground did before a terror demon rose. “Gwen…”

“It’s okay Max, get off the ice now.” Another crash of thunder rolled across the lake as the ice started to crack and open in earnest. Max scrambled back and Gwen backed up as the mist shot up into the air and started coalescing into the shape of a black horse. The horse was not actually black, but deep dark red like ancient blood; the only relief to the darkness was its glowing red eyes. It was saddled and bridled, its saddle cloth emblazoned with a bloody red handprint. It turned its head scanning the people around the edge of the lake before it stopped on one person. With a toss of its head it trotted up to Gwen and nickered at her. “Shadowmere, is it really you?”

Shadowmere tossed its head _yes._

Gwen released a sob she didn’t even know she had in her and threw her arms around the black horse’s neck. “I’m so happy to see you but how in Oblivion did you get here? Can you get us back?”

The horse shook its head _no._

“So, you just followed me?”

The horse vigorously tossed its head and shoved it into Gwen’s chest making her stumble back a step.

“Well I’m glad you are here my friend.” Gwen led the horse off the ice, Cullen and Cassandra still had their weapons drawn, Max still had the axe but stood relaxed. The soldiers and others that had previously gathered had been sent back to their tasks.

“Care to explain,” Cullen said tightly. “What demon is this?”

“Shadowmere is my horse. Its, uh, not a demon.”

Solas stepped forward having arrived to see the horse rise and the ensuing argument. “It is a spirit, but like Gwen, it isn’t connected to the Fade. In any case, if this spirit is bound to Gwen –” Solas looked at Gwen who nodded her head that it was, “it is safe from being twisted against its purpose by any except for her.”

“We need to have a discussion – in the war room. Now,” Cullen demanded before he turned and stalked away back to the Chantry.

“Solas, please join us,” Cassandra asked with a disapproving glance at Shadowmere.

Shadowmere bumped against Gwen. “It’s all right my friend, I’ll be fine. Just… try to stay out of anyone’s way. I’ll come see you after.” The horse wandered off towards the woods.

“Come on Gwen,” Max said putting his arm around her shoulders as he guided her to the Chantry.

Cullen was pacing in the war room. The other advisors, Cassandra, and Solas stood quietly scattered around the room. “What other surprises can we expect? Are there any other demons attached to you?” Cullen attacked as soon as the doors closed behind Gwen and Max.

“There… are others that are bound to my service. None are demons, and none that can appear on their own volition like Shadowmere. They must be called, which I won’t do. I don’t know how your world connects to mine but Shadowmere said that it can’t take me back, so I will not risk calling the others to me if they will be stranded here.”

“What else is bound to you, _specifically_ _?”_ Cullen asked pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Um, an undead horse, and uh… Two dragons.” There were multiple gasps from the room’s occupants. “One is alive, the other undead. Look I haven’t harmed anyone here – unprovoked – and I have no intention of doing so. All I can do is give you my word.”

“Gwen is a mage but she is not connected to the Fade so is not in danger of possession as we know it. There is no reason to suspect any different from any spirits bound to her,” Solas postulated.

“I’ve been up front with you with who I am. I’m surprised as you at Shadowmere’s appearance but it isn’t a danger to you, nor am I. If that isn’t good enough, I can leave. Discuss it and then let me know your decision,” Gwen said and then excused herself from the room. She headed out of the Chantry to go check on Shadowmere when she was interrupted by a soldier hovering around the entrance way.

“Excuse me. I’ve got a message for the Inquisition, but I’m having a hard time getting anyone to talk to me.”

Gwen stopped and looked at him, “who are you?”

“Cremisius Aclassi, with the Bull’s Chargers mercenary company.”

“Well, you’re finally in luck,” she said as she heard running steps behind her. She turned and saw it was Max as she thought. “Max, come and meet Cremisius Aclassi of the Bull’s Charger – he has a message for the Inquisition.”

Gwen went to the cabin grabbed her weapons, her pack, and a heavy fur cloak; she needed to put some distance between herself and this Inquisition and do some thinking. She strode out of the gates and whistled for Shadowmere. As the horse cantered by her, she grabbed a hold and vaulted into the saddle encouraging the horse to go faster. Behind her, she could hear people calling her name but she disregarded them and continued into the forest taking a path up into the mountains that she had never taken before.

Up into the mountain she found a cave. Dismounting from Shadowmere, she slipped her bow from her shoulder and readied an arrow as she snuck into the cave. She could almost hear, echoing in her memories, her companions’ comments about the cave. Lydia would complain that she had a bad feeling about the cave, Farkas would hope that they wouldn’t encounter Frostbite Spiders, and Marcurio would tell her how lucky she was to have such a marvelous mage accompanying her. She heard a skitter of stones ahead of her. “Laas Yah Nir,” she whispered. Before her, three nugs appeared like ghosts out of the darkness. She relaxed as there weren’t any predators in the cave, other than her, that was. She drew the bow string three times in quick succession killing all three nugs. She now had food for a few days. Collecting wood from outside, she brought Shadowmere into the cave with her and built a fire. She went about cleaning the nugs, putting one on a spit and the other two were prepared into strips to dry by the heat of the fire. She rifled through her pack and found one of those Blood Lotus plants she brought to Adan. She wasn’t really sure what the plant did but with a shrug, she pulled a small piece off a petal and stuck in her mouth; it had an earthy flavour, not unpleasant.

She sat staring at the fire chewing on the petal contemplating what she should do. _Divines only know, I’m used to being feared, but this feels different somehow_. The flames flickered and popped as the fat from the nug dripped down onto the hot coals. The flames started moving more slowly like they were dancing in a breeze. The logs shifted with a pop sending sparks up into the air settling into the constellations from home across the roof of the cave. Another pop from the logs and the constellations shifted to those of Thedas. _I could leave but where could I go?_ She let her gaze fall back into the fire as she popped another piece of petal into her mouth and chewed. A drop of fat fell into the fire _lasssssss_. Green eyes, straight nose, and scruff along the jaw topped with long auburn hair coalesced from the flames. Tears rose to Gwen’s eyes at the sight, her chest aching. Another drop of fat fell, _lasssssss_ it hissed, and the eyes shifted to blue, a broken nose, short brown hair, and tattoos over the chin. She closed her eyes at the sight and willed the ache in her chest to leave. After some deep slow breaths, the feeling abated and she opened her eyes; a huge black dragon formed in the flames flying over a village setting it ablaze. _Was that Helgen, or Kynesgrove, or any of the numbers of villages I have seen burn, or is this what is yet to come?_ The souls within her shifted. Dragons were coming. Suddenly the logs shifted collapsing sending a big gust of sparks into the air breaking her reverie.

She sighed, she was Dragonborn. She knew what she had to do.


	10. Horns

In the morning, Gwen wrapped the dried nug meat into her pack, rolled up the cleaned nug skins, and headed out of the cave. It had snowed over night obscuring her trail but it was of no concern. She pulled herself into the saddle but kept her bow handy. She would keep her eye out for more rams as she made her way down the mountain, there was always need of more meat and ram was better than nug for feeding a growing army.

She shot three rams and another wolf on her way down the mountain. Shadowmere didn’t care about the weight or blood of the corpses when Gwen secured them to the saddle. Recruits quickly but cautiously came and relieved her of the game when she arrived back in Haven. Once unburdened, Gwen sent Shadowmere off to do or go wherever it pleased as she headed to her cabin.

“Gwen!” a voice called from behind her as their steps hurried up to catch her. She ignored the call and continued up the steps to the cabin.

“Lass!” A hand grabbed her shoulder whirling her around before a pair of hands grasped her shoulders pushing her hard against the cabin wall. “Where in the Void have ye been? I’ve… We’ve all been worri’d about yer!” Rylen’s blue eyes blazed as he looked down at her.

She shrugged under his hands, “I went into the mountains. I needed some time to think.”

“Ye’re gone for three days. Without a word to anyone ‘fore ye left.”

Gwen’s eyes widened a bit, she didn’t think it had been three days. _Okay, Blood Lotus is definitely hallucinogenic_. She mentally shook off the surprise about the days and snarked at him, “I don’t think anyone would care if me and my demon horse disappeared.”

Rylen glowered at her change of expression, “I –”. The cabin door opened interrupting him.

“Oh good, you’re back Gwen,” Max said casually leaning against the door frame. “Leliana wants a word with you and then we’re leaving for the Storm Coast. You’re coming with.” He raised an eyebrow at Rylen, who suddenly remembered that he had her shoulders pinned against the cabin wall. He saluted Max and spun on his heel.

“Are you all right Gwen?” Max asked quietly.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Okay. Go see Leliana. I’ll let the others know to get ready. Madame Vivienne hasn’t arrived yet so she won’t be coming but all the others will be. We’re going to meet the mercenary company, Bull’s Chargers.” Gwen nodded and went to Leliana’s tent.

“Oh good, you’ve returned. Are you planning on staying?” Leliana asked waiving the other agents out of her tent.

“I don’t know. Am I always going to be under suspicion that I might turn into a monster at any moment?”

“For most of us, no. The Commander… he’s seen and experienced the worst that magic and mages have to offer. He’ll take longer to come to trust you.”

“Humph. Fine. I’ll take what the Commander has to say with a bucket of salt.” Leliana smiled. “Max said I was to join them but you needed to see me before we left.”

“Yes. I’m sure Max would have told you that you are going to meet up with a mercenary company. Their leader, a Qunari by the name of Iron Bull, leads the company. My sources say he is a spy for the Ben-Hassrath. I can fill you in on all of this when you return; the important thing at the moment is that we don’t know the true intensions of this Qunari spy. I need you to stay close to Max and keep an eye on Iron Bull. You are a trained assassin, you’ll see any attempts on Max’s life. It’s in your hands.”

“Understood.” Gwen hurried to the cabin to grab the additional gear she wanted and then down to the gates where the others were finishing readying their mounts. She whistled for Shadowmere and started securing her gear.

Harritt walked up to her with a cloak in his arms, “here girl. This will help keep you dry on the Storm Coast.” The cloak was a kind of woven fabric that had a waxy finish to it. She nodded her thanks and rolled it up securing it behind her saddle like that others had done.

“Let’s go,” Cassandra called out turning her horse to the road. Gwen pulled herself into the saddle and fell into line with the rest. As she reached the treeline, she glanced back and saw Rylen watching as she moved into the trees and lost sight of the village.

* * *

They rode into the first camp upon arriving at the Storm Coast. Max went off with Scout Harding to get the update on the situation in the Storm Coast and the intel on where the mercenary group’s last known whereabouts.

“The Waking Sea. Somewhere across all that water is Kirkwall,” Varric said slightly wistful.

“It's been a while since I was at sea,” Blackwall commented. “Traveling to Haven must have been quite the journey.”

“Between Cassandra's friendly company and Cullen's feelings on sea travel - it was great.”

“It was a long journey to Haven.”

Varric looked at Cassandra, “Considering the company, I'm surprised it didn't feel longer.”

They made their way down to the beach to try to locate the group when they heard an ear-rending screech. “Oh,” Gwen sighed recognising the sound. They snuck forward to see what all the noise and commotion was. On the beach below them, a huge dragon was battling a giant.

“Well Seeker, you're the expert. What do we do now?”

“Don't get killed. By either of them,” Cassandra said drily.

“Wow. We can watch, yeah?” Sera asked.

“Watch? Let’s go fight it!” Gwen said excitedly.

“It’s an impressive creature. There is a purity in such undiluted power,” Solas commented with respect as he watched the battle between the two creatures.

“Oh yeah,” Gwen sighed. “Come on Max, we can take it.” She was starting to bounce on the balls of her feet.

He glanced at Cassandra who was frowned at him, “uh. No, we better not.” Gwen took a deep breath to shout and before she could, Max slapped his hand over her mouth and pulled her down. “Don’t draw its attention, we have to go find the mercenaries.”

“Fine,” she grumbled behind his hand. “But you owe me a dragon.” Varric and Blackwall chuckled.

“Deal.” They watched the dragon for a few minutes more until the giant was killed and it flew away to the northwest. “All right, let’s get moving.”

They continued down the hill onto the beach.  “I smell seaweed. How do I know seaweed?” Sera asked.

Soon, they heard fighting.  As they came around the bend following the path from the hills they could see two groups fighting. “Think they need any help,” Gwen asked watching the two groups.

“They seem to be handling it well enough,” Cassandra commented.

“Seriously, why did you bring me if we’re not going to have any fun?”

Max nodded his head in the direction of the battle, “there’s a mage in the Venatori. The Chargers don’t seem to have a mage or anyone to combat that.”

Gwen grinned at him, “I’m on it.” She hopped over the dune they were observing from and pulled the ebony swords, Hyrrvig and Blársvell, from their scabbards and started to jog towards the fight. She spotted the mage again, taking a deep breath thu’umbed, “ _Wuld Nah Kest!_ ” The Whirlwind Sprint shout propelled her forwards in the blink of an eye placing her before the startled mage. She slashed with Blársvell freezing the mage so he dropped his spell book and disrupted the spell his was in the middle of casting. The mage looked at her with fury in his eyes. Before he could overcome the effects of the sword, she swung Hyrrvig sending his head sailing through the air into the water. She spun around and cut a swath back through the Venatori.

“Chargers! Stand down!”

Max was walking up to a hulking brute of a man; the horns gave it away that he was the Iron Bull. This was the person that Leliana wanted her to watch. Gwen studied him, he looked like he could be a dremora, and the biggest dremora she had ever seen. Right before Max reached Iron Bull, she walked between the two of them and as she passed Max she turned back slightly and slapped a hand on his shoulder, “that was fun, but you still owe me a dragon,” she said with a covert glance at the Qunari to catch his reaction. The spy was good, his only reaction was a slight flare of his nostrils. She continued past Max and casually leaned against a rock behind him to watch the conversation under the guise of cleaning her swords. She was not close enough that the Iron Bull would feel compelled to draw Max away but close enough that she could reach him with the Whirlwind Sprint if needed.

The captain of the Chargers barked out some orders to his second, including some insults that the man gracefully threw back to his commander. To Gwen’s surprise, the Iron Bull confessed to Max that he was a spy. After further discussion, he bellowed to his crew to pack up as they had been hired; they would make their way to Haven but he was going to accompany Max’s group personally. This would be interesting.

* * *

The Herald was as straight-forward as people came. But the red-headed woman that sat on the rocks behind was anything but. _Ah, redheads,_ Bull thought as he studied her as he talked to the Herald. He wasn’t entirely sure of her role as there had been remarkably little intelligence on her. He saw first hand that she was hell of a fighter and _quick_.

Now she sat behind the Herald, cleaning her swords but he knew that she was watching everything without giving herself away. And she was smart too; she had positioned herself not close enough that would compel someone to move away for privacy but as quick as she was, he doubted anyone including himself would be able to get to the Herald before her. So perhaps the Herald’s bodyguard.

But that didn’t explain why she smelled so _dragony._ Certainly, he was familiar with the taste and smell of dragon’s blood, he was a reaver after all, but never had he smelt anyone as dragony as her even if they had just taken the blood. He just couldn’t resist the flair of his nose when she had passed him. _Yes, definitely going to enjoy getting to the bottom of_ that _mystery,_ he thought to himself with a grin.

* * *

There were some logistic difficulties at the very beginning as they didn’t have a horse big enough to carry the Iron Bull. “Shadowmere can carry him,” Gwen offered.

“Then you can ride with me,” Solas offered in return.

“Thank you, no. Shadowmere will only permit me to ride him but will allow someone to ride with me.”

Bull grinned at the prospect of being that close to her for the trip back to Haven. “Just keep your hands to yourself,” she said as he settled himself behind her on the spirit horse, “or you’ll be missing more of your fingers.” Bull let out a roar of laughter.

“And how to you propose I stay on the horse,” he asked once he stopped laughing.

Gwen rolled her eyes, “fine, if your balance is that bad, you can put your hands on my waist.” Immediately, two very large hands wrapped themselves around her waist. She shook her head and rolled her eyes again as she nudged Shadowmere forward.

When they stopped to camp for the night, Gwen found a very large Qunari leaning over top of her as he dismounted before she could dismount to give him the space. It was entirely on purpose as he stuck his nose right in the side of her neck and _rumbled,_ the vibration sinking right to her bones, as he swung himself off the horse. She glared at him but the bastard had the gall to smirk back at her and grabbed her around the waist lifting her off the horse; she was definitely going to set his pants on fire at some point.

Gwen helped Cassandra and Sera set up their shared tent while the men did the same with their own tents. “Is everything all right, Gwen? Do I need to have a word with the Qunari?” Cassandra asked quietly.

“Nope, everything is fine Cassandra. But thank you for offering.”

“If you are certain…”

“I am. I enjoy the revelation when people under estimate me,” she said with a grin. Cassandra looked at her and cracked a smile.

“If that fails, you can always shoot ‘em. An arrow to the dangle bag always gets the point across,” Sera added in a loud voice. Gwen looked at Sera and they both broke into a fit of giggles as protests from the men in the camp were made.

Gwen picked up her bow and quiver and threw her arm over Sera’s shoulder pulling her from the tent. “Come on Sera, let’s go hunt. I’m in the mood to _shoot_ something,” she said in an equally loud voice.

Sera looked at her skeptically before coming to some sort of decision and declaring, “you know, you might be all right.” Gwen grinned at her and cocked her head to guide the two of them into the woods to hunt. They dined very well that night on the half dozen grouse that Sera and Gwen managed to take down.

After dinner, Varric decided that they needed a story time to get to know each other better and prompted the stories with a question about the strangest place each had ever woken up. Most were fairly staid; under a table in a tavern, the back of a cart in an unfamiliar town, under a hedge covered in chicken feathers. The last one was from Bull regarding a failed job that had the Chargers fleeing from an outraged nobleman’s personal guards. Then it was Gwen’s turn. “In a cave, naked, draped over a half-eaten carcass of a deer.” All eyes turned to her.

“Oh ho, there’s a story there Rosy,” Varric chortled. “You can’t leave us with that.”

“Rosy?” Gwen asked again.

Varric shrugged, “yeah, I think it’s going to stick. So spill – in a cave, naked, draped over a half eaten deer.”

“It was just after I was initiated into the Companions’ inner circle and became a werewolf.”

“You’re a werewolf as well?” Cassandra asked looking decidedly uncomfortable.

“Was, Cassandra. I’m not any longer, you don’t have to worry.” The woman nodded and relaxed a bit. “The first time I changed, I gave Aela and Farkas a particularly difficult time. The dragon power I already had drove my aggression so that after I took down the deer, I attacked Farkas when he tried to share my kill.” Gwen snorted at the memory, “I didn’t take well to sharing and he still bears the marks,” she drew a stripe across her nose as explanation, “of that lesson. He was so pissed off.”

“So why – how did you cure yourself?” Varric asked.

“The power, the freedom of the wolf was exhilarating in the beginning. You just let your self go and embrace the hunt. But after a while, you start to lose yourself.” She noticed a slight head shake from Solas. She broke eye contact with Varric and stared into the fire. “The curse was tied to a coven of witches. I killed them and it lifted the curse freeing us.” She looked up and found the Iron Bull studying her.

They continued telling stories and Gwen excused herself and wandered to the perimeter of camp to take a moment to herself. Solas walked up beside her, “a word, if you have a moment.”

“Certainly Solas. What can I do for you?”

“The lycanthropy was due to a spirit, correct?” Gwen looked at him for a moment, and then nodded. “I suspected as much.”

“Is that why you gave me that look?”

“Yes. The others would be frightened that you shared your body with another spirit. Regardless of whether the relationship was symbiotic or not, they view such union as an abomination and it would give them greater concern whether they could trust you. The latest occurrence of such a union resulted in the explosion of the Chantry in Kirkwall.”

“I see. Are the souls of a living creature that has passed on the same as a spirit or viewed as such?”

“Souls of the dead pass through the Fade but they are the memories and essence of the being and not the same as a spirit or demon. A soul does not have the will required to possess a living thing.”

“Thank you Solas. I’m used to people fearing me for my power but I’d rather not give them additional reasons through a misunderstanding.”

Solas nodded and turned to leave. He paused, “do you dream since you arrived in Thedas?”

“Yes, quite often. Why?” Gwen asked studying the elf.

“It’s of no importance; I was just curious,” he replied and left her with her thoughts.


	11. Revelations & Lessons

“Why did you lie?” Bull asked her quietly as they rode the next day. His breath against her ear as he bowed his head so others didn’t overhear their conversation sent a shiver over her skin. He smirked at her reaction.

“What lie would that be?”

“About the werewolf.”

“I didn’t lie. I killed the witches and cured myself and the others.”

“It wasn’t the complete truth. There was something that you didn’t tell them.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“It was because of the bloodlust,” he stated.

Gwen sighed, “as I acquired more power, the bloodlust became unrelenting. The last straw was when we went hunting Silver Hand bandits and I woke up in a fortress surrounded by bodies that had been ripped apart, unrecognizable, and I had no memory of what happened. They don’t need to know that.”

“Hmm,” Bull commented. After a few moments, “it was a spirit, wasn’t it?”

“You going to kill me, or go tell the others I was an abomination?” she hissed at him angrily.

“Nope. For what it’s worth, I think you’d be difficult to kill,” he said tightening his hands on her waist slightly.

“You would be right. To answer your question, yes, it was a spirit. I hunted down the witches that cursed the Companions with lycanthropy and performed the ceremony to drive the wolf spirit out of myself and destroyed it. No more werewolf, no more spirit. I am not a risk to the Inquisition; they are my friends and I will defend them from _all_ enemies.”

The Iron Bull was silent for a moment as if he was weighing the sincerity and implication of her words. “Good to know.”

The welcome back to Haven was accompanied by a lot of wide eyes when the Iron Bull came into view. Many people had never seen a Qunari and those that had, or had at least heard of them, were coloured by the events at Kirkwall with the Arishok. They came to a halt before the stables and once again Bull leaned over her before she had a chance to dismount and give him room to do the same, burying his nose against her neck. “Why do you do that?” she complained trying to shrug him off.

“Because you smell so good.” He took a deep breath. “So dragony,” he offered with a feral grin as he slid off the horse.

She looked at him for a moment and then flashed him a wicked grin of her own. “Let me know any time you’d like to become more acquainted with the _dragon._ I’d be happy to oblige,” she teased before she sent Shadowmere off and strode off into Haven. He responded with an even wider smile watching her walk away from them all.

* * *

Gwen exited the apothecary’s hut after checking in with Adan to see if he was in need of any herbs. She planned on hunting the next day and gathering elfroot along the way was an easy task if he was running low. As she exited the hut in the low light of the approaching night, she felt eyes upon her as she walked towards the tavern. She rolled her right hand up towards her sleeve, her fingers brushing the dagger hilt hidden within. “Good evening, Dragonborn.”

“Solas. Good evening,” she greeted the elf as he stepped from the shadows gathering by his hut. She relaxed her hand. “I’m just heading to the tavern. Care to join me?”

“Thank you, no. I am going to have a quiet night to myself.”

“If you change your mind – ” He tipped his head, sketching a bow in acknowledgement of her invitation. When he didn’t say anything else, she turned to leave. “Have a good night Solas.”

“The other night you mentioned that you dream.”

Gwen turned back to him, “yes.”

“Do you have any control over your dreams? Can you will them to change?”

She studied him for a few moments before she answered, “somewhat. I can usually stop them if they are going in an unpleasant direction or if I wish to be somewhere else. Is that what you mean?”

“That’s generally the idea. Those with magical ability dream in the Fade and are able to manipulate it to their will to varying degrees. It is possible for such individuals to seek each other in the Fade to converse. Would you be willing to try an experiment this evening when you go to your rest and meet me in the Fade?”

“Why?”

“Intellectual curiousity, da'isenatha. I am simply curious if someone from another world can reach the Fade.”

“All right. I’m curious too, but how do I find you?”

“I will find you. Just picture Haven when you go to sleep and I will do the rest.”

Gwen nodded her understanding and took her leave. After dinner and some drinks with Max and a few of the others in the tavern, she headed back to her shared cabin to go to sleep. As she lay in bed, she thought about Haven as her eyes started to feel heavy and she relaxed into sleep.

Suddenly, her eyes snapped open. She sat up and looked past the room partition and saw that Max was asleep in his bed. Snoring, as usual. She got up and opened the door to the cabin, the streets of Haven were silent. She walked out into the street and up the stairs to Varric’s area. None of the usual guards were in place; there was none of the activity she normally associated with… _Wait a minute,_ she thought, _it’s light out. As in daylight._ “Solas?”

“Very good, da’len,” the elf said. She spun around with a squeak of surprise at his appearance behind her. He quickly smoothed away his smirk. “Let us see if you can manipulate the Fade.”

“What do I do?”

“Start by thinking of a memory – happy or pleasant memories are usually easier to manifest – then fill in the details of your environment willing them to appear.”

She searched her memories and then concentrated willing it to appear. The packed dirt of the streets of Haven gave way to smoothed stones, walls rose around them as an elven woman and a young girl of about ten years of age appeared working together at a wooden table rolling out pastry. They could even smell the sweetness of the baked fruit. Gwen smiled as she and Solas watched for a moment; the woman smiled fondly at the child wiping a smear of flour from the child’s face.

“A fond memory of baking with an elven servant?”

Gwen flicked her eyes at him, “she wasn’t a servant. That was my sennach, my grandmother. She died not long after this.”

Solas turned to her with a look of shock on his face, “you are Elf-blooded.”

“Yes. My race, the Bretons come from ancient bloodlines of Man and Mer, but my mother’s maternal line was elven, from one of the Bosmer clans, specifically.”

“Bosmer – I am not familiar with that name,” he said having appeared to recover from his initial shock.

“Um, wood elves? Nomadic elves; brilliant hunters and warriors with an aptitude for magic?”

“Ah, so not unlike the Dalish.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps?” She turned back to the scene before with a fond smile, “Senna loved telling me the old legends of the Mer.”

“Will you tell me one of those legends?”

She thought for a moment then began, “Long, long ago many of the ancient elves, the Ehlnofey, began exploring outside of the Aldmeris, vast cities of astonishing engineering and beauty, the likes of which have never been seen. Cities of coral rising from the seas, forests of glass and crystal spires that glittered in the light. Some of Ehlnofey left to wander and explore the world, and settled new communities as they explored. They gave rise to the Bosmer and Dunmer populations eventually. Some of the Ehlnofey intermingled with the human populations they found and gave rise to the Breton race, my race. The Ehlnofey, those that remained in Aldmeris, became lost when the world was shattered… Are you all right, Solas?” The elf who normally had a very calm, bland expression appeared agitated, well, at least agitated for him.

“How was the world shattered?” he asked, his voice slightly shaken.

“It’s not known, but it started with a war among the Ehlnofey. When the world shattered, those that remained in Aldmeris vanished and those that had wandered remained to become the elves of today. The shattering of the world also created the separation between the plains of Oblivion, the place of magic and memory, and Nirn, the waking world.” Gwen reached out tentatively and touched the elf’s arm, “Solas? I’m sorry, my story seems to have upset you.”

He stepped away from her touch and his normal expression settled back into place, “I am not upset. It is simply a curiosity that our worlds have similar tales.”

“Do you think it is possible that they are connected?”

“It is possible. I would need to investigate further. But for now, it is time to – wake up.”

* * *

Gwen’s eyes snapped open and she found herself staring at the ceiling in the cabin she shared with Max. Through the windows, she could see the morning light was getting stronger so she decided to get up. Max was still curled up in his bed facing the wall and snoring like her daughter, Lucia’s, pet fox. She finished dressing in the leather armour and putting her weapons in place to go hunting for the day, she stepped out past the room divider to leave. She glanced over at Max one last time and bit her tongue to stop the giggle from escaping and waking him. He had pulled up all the blankets and had them bundled up as he curled around them, his bare behind now exposed to the cool air of the cabin. Gwen smiled, _well now I know what he wears to bed and that he sleeps like Farkas,_ as she grabbed a blanket from her bed and threw it over him. She brushed a longer strand of his brown hair from where it fell across his face and smiled back at his reflexive smile, then left the cabin.

Haven was waking up. Servants, both elven and human, were hurrying along with their morning tasks. Gwen could hear the odd voice of a soldier now and then from below the village as they started to chivvy their fellow soldiers out of the tents into the cold morning air. Above her, the first lines of one of the religious chants, was being sung from the Chantry. She hurried across the village to the where the food was served to the soldiers; if she hurried, she could grab her food and get out to the forest to hunt before the sun was too high and the animals more cautious.

With a still warm bun stuffed with meat and cheese in hand and another tucked away for later, she slipped out of the gates and headed for the woods. “And where are you off to, lass?”

Gwen stopped and turned towards the voice. Rylen was emerging from his tent; his regular plate armour had been replaced with lighter clothing. “Adan needs more elfroot,” she replied waving the two empty sacks she was carrying, “and I thought I’d do a bit of hunting if the opportunity arose.”

“ _Not_ druffalo.”

“If the opportunity arose…” she was cut off by a frustrated sigh from the man before her.

“I’ll come with you.”

“Don’t you have farm boys to yell at today?”

“No lass, it’s my day off,” he responded ducking back into his tent for weapons.

“Well that explains the armour. Do you even know how to hunt? I’ve found that most warriors that favour heavy armour, swords and shields are shit with bows. And terrible at being quiet.”

He raised a brow at her, “I’ve surprised you once or twice lass, and in full armour no less.”

“It wasn’t because you snuck up on me,” she retorted.

“No? Then why?” he asked as he stepped closer, with a quick glance around to make sure no one was looking he reached up and stroked his bare knuckles along her cheek and down her jaw before dropping his hand.

Gwen looked up at him and opened her mouth to answer him, but something in the way he looked at her made the heat creep up her throat. She firmly closed her mouth without replying; she pulled out the extra bun from her pack and slapped it into his hand, “if you’re gonna come… uh, if you’re joining me…” She felt her ears start to burn and Rylen chuckled. “Grrr, fuck it!” she threw up her hands and spun away from him. “Follow or not, your choice.”

Rylen ducked back into his tent for his sword and dagger, and grabbed a bow from the weapons rack as he exited the camp and jogged after Gwen. He fell into step with her and fell silent as they walked deeper into the woods. She stopped often and gathered plants for the alchemist. He leaned against a tree watching her; he admired her silent grace as she moved, he knew she was utterly lethal and had more than likely seen more death and destruction than even he had, even considering that he witnessed the fall of the Starkhaven circle and the aftermath of the explosion in Kirkwall. And yet, there was something sweet and fragile about her that he ached to protect. “Where were you when you ran away for those three days? Where did you go, lass?”

“I told you, I went up into the mountains. Up above the ridge,” she pointed up above Haven, “I found a small cave that I sheltered in.”

“Why did you run?”

Gwen shrugged. “I was feeling sorry for myself. I’m not used to such suspicion and hostility from my so-called allies like I experienced with your commander. I’m in a strange land, alone. I’m feared and viewed as a monster for magical abilities that I’m used to being accepted without question. My friends and companions, who usually have my back, are missing from me, and…” Gwen sighed, “I guess I’m feeling a little vulnerable and I don’t like it.”

He stopped her with a hand on her arm, “I won’t let anyone hurt you, lass.”

She looked at him, “I didn’t always agree with Ulfric’s orders but when I joined the Stormcloaks, I pledged myself to his service and as one of his soldiers I had to obey. Do you have the option to disregard orders from your commanding officer?” Rylen shifted on his feet, frowning with discomfort but unable to deny her question. “If your commander orders you to kill me, it would be your duty to obey regardless of your own opinion.” She looked pensively off into the woods and once again Rylen felt the urge to protect her. “Can we talk about something else? I don’t want to linger on feeling sorry for myself. I did that up in the cave and now I’m moving on with my choices.”

“Alright lass,” he moved the hand that was still on her arm and tucked some stray hairs behind her ear, “consider it changed. Where are we going to hunt today?”

“I thought we’d go out to the meadow and see what we can get today.”

“You’re not…” he looked at Gwen then shook his head.

Gwen led them out to the meadow, on the way she shot two rams and pulled them up into trees along their return path to protect them from other predators. The druffalo were at the far end downwind from them so she climbed up onto a rocky ridge to watch. Rylen settled down beside her. “Tell me about your family,” she asked after they had been sitting for a while in silence.

“I’m the youngest of five children, three brothers and a sister. My father was a stonemason in Starkhaven, my mother kept house. My brothers all followed the family craft. The two eldest brothers are married as is my sister. She married a carpenter.”

“Why didn’t you become a stonemason like your brothers?”

“Och, I learned much of the trade but I wanted to do something useful with my life. I wanted to help and protect the weak. I joined the Templar Order when I was fifteen.”

“How is terrorizing mages and keeping them defenseless protecting the weak?” she asked hotly. She glanced at Rylen, “sorry, that was unfair. You have not displayed the same suspicion and hostility toward mages that I have seen from the others.”

“I’ll admit, the Order has strayed. The Templar Order has, for hundreds of years, stood to protect mages from ordinary citizens, and protect others from mages that wished to use their abilities to harm. Our abilities to stop a mage’s magic was meant to be used to protect them as much as non-mages. That tenet has been corrupted into abuse and oppression which is why the war between the Templars and mages happened. I left the Order with others who felt as I do, as the Commander also feels, that the slaughter of all mages and their oppression is the wrong answer.”

Gwen snorted, “well, he has a funny way of showing his compassion.”

“To be fair, Cullen has ample reason to be cautious, but that is his story to tell. I’m sure in time, he’ll – ”

Gwen reached up and placed her fingertips over his mouth silencing him, and pointed at some rams that just exited the treeline onto the meadow. They had the perfect vantage point from where they were on the rocks to shoot several of the rams. “Your shot,” she whispered to him so not to spook the animals. Rylen got to his feet slowly and silently and readied his bow. Gwen likewise readied her bow as she took up position beside him. She sighted an animal and fired just after Rylen shot his animal. Hers fell, but his was injured but not down. She hesitated for a moment waiting for him to take the shot to finish off his animal before it escaped; he fumbled with his next arrow sending it wide. She fired again taking down his ram before it managed to escape out of range, the other animals scattered back into the treeline.

“You are a terrible shot,” she giggled.

“I haven’t had a lot of practice of late,” he protested.

She slung her bow on her back and stepped up to him adjusting his grip on the bow and a nocked arrow, then stepping around behind him she adjusted his stance. Rising onto her toes, she leaned into him lifting his bow arm up with her left hand and used her right to correct his elbow into the right alignment for the draw. Lifting her chin so her lips were close to his jaw, where the muscles in his jaw fluttered as he looked down the arrow, she said softly, “now, sight down the arrow and beyond to your target. Slow, steady breath in and exhale. Next breath, slowly in and release the arrow.” She felt his chest expand as he started to draw in a slow breath and just as he went to release the arrow she touched her lips to the edge of his jaw. The arrow went careening off target into the woods.

“You cheeky little – you did that on purpose!” he accused her. Gwen laughed as she leapt off the rocks and went to retrieve their kills. “I’ll get you back for that, you little minx.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm curious - do people prefer shorter chapters more often or longer chapters less frequently?


	12. Seeking Allies

A scout ran up to Gwen as she and Rylen returned to Haven, “Lady Dragonborn, your presence has been requested in the war room.”

“Alright, I’ll be there right away.” The scout saluted and headed off to wherever their next duty took them.

“Go and see what they want and I’ll get these rams to the cook. Join me for dinner in the tavern, later?” Rylen asked.

“Sure, I’ll see you then.” Gwen headed into the Chantry. One of the soldiers stepped forward and opened the door to let her in as she approached, closing it behind her. She stepped in to the middle of an argument. She sidled over to where Max was leaning against the wall patiently waiting for the others to finish or come to a decision.

“And I still disagree. The templars could serve just as well,” Cullen argued.

Cassandra huffed in frustration, “we need power, Commander. Enough magic poured into the mark…”

“Might destroy us all. Templars could suppress the Breach, weaken it so…”

“Pure speculation,” Leliana supplied.

“Please! This argument is getting us no where,” Josephine tried to interrupt them.

“Excuse me – I don’t know the details of all that you are discussing but does it have to be one or the other. Can we approach both parties to assist?” Gwen asked rendering the others silent with her question.

“Fiona approached Max directly in Val Royeaux so he should go meet the mages in Redcliffe. I will go with him,” Cassandra offered.

“With the support of some of the pious noble families, we would be able to approach the templars,” Josephine said making notes on her board.

“It might be useful to send a mage that templars can’t silence, if there is trouble,” Max added looking at Gwen. “ _Sorry_ ,” he mouthed silently to her.

“That’s a terrible idea.”

“That’s a very good idea.”

Both Cullen and Leliana replied at the same time. They looked at each other and frowned. It would almost be funny if the matter wasn’t so serious.

“Wait, we don’t know that she can’t be silenced,” Cassandra interrupted. “Has anyone tried? Did Mathias… Sorry, I don’t mean to bring that up again, but – ”

“I don’t think they used any of their Templar magic on me, Cassandra.” She noticed a smirk from Leliana, and a scowl from Cullen at her statement, but continued, “they had Nera paralyze me and then they had their hands on me. We can test it, if you like.”

Cullen stepped forward but Cassandra interjected, “perhaps we can request Knight-Captain Rylen’s assistance in this matter and we can monitor. It would be best to keep this among ourselves and your second would be discreet.” Gwen noticed a look pass between Cassandra and Cullen but it was very fleeting and he acknowledged it with an infinitesimal nod. “If no one has any objection, we’ll test tomorrow after Rylen has had his draught.” Gwen nodded her head and the others agreed.

“I’m sorry about this Gwen,” Max offered as he stepped up beside her they left the meeting.

“It’s all right Max. It’s a good idea really. If they want me to protect you, it would be good to know what to expect from warriors of that type. You’ve run into rogue templars before, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.”

“I know, but it seems like they are always testing you unlike our other allies.”

“They are, but I’m not from your world. I’m different, I don’t fit the mold.” Max frowned as he considered her words. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“We should get drunk tonight,” he said cutting in front of her path stopping her.

“I don’t think so. Besides, I already have plans for dinner.”

“Reeeeealllllly? They wouldn’t include a certain captain from Starkhaven, would they?” he teased her giving her braid a tug. “You spend a lot of time with him. Anything I should know?”

“They might. There’s nothing to tell. We’re friends.”

“Uh huh. Does he know that?” He chuckled at her confused expression. “Well if you change your mind, you’ll know where to find us.”

* * *

“Lass, I just got orders from Cullen that I’m to test you tomorrow,” Rylen mentioned as he caught up with her outside of the tavern for dinner, pulling her aside to have a private discussion. “I don’t want to hurt you. I’ll ask the Commander to choose someone else.”

“Rylen, I told you that you might be called to do something you didn’t want to do when it came to me. I know you don’t want to do this but I’d rather it was you, someone I trust, than a stranger. If I am vulnerable to templar abilities, I’d rather it was you that knew about it and I need to know before I face them in the field.”

“All right, lass. I don’t like it but I understand your preference,” he said tucking an errant strand of hair behind her ear. “Come on, let’s go have dinner.”

In the morning, Gwen was escorted down to the prison cells in the Chantry so that there would be no witnesses beyond the advisors, Rylen, and Max to the test. “Let’s start and see if your spells can be neutralized,” Cullen ordered.

Cassandra stepped forward, “if you need to cast a spell on someone other than yourself, you can do so with me.”

“That won’t be necessary, Cassandra. I don’t have offensive spells to bind you, only ones that cause damage. I won’t set you on fire.” Gwen proceeded to cast a frost rune on the floor before her, conjured a Flame Atronach, and then conjured a magical bow. Rylen made a gesture and the rune and flame atronach were dispelled but the bow remained.

“All right, so runes and conjured atronachs are susceptible to being cancelled but higher-level spells will resist. What’s next?” Gwen asked.

“Smite her,” Cullen ordered Rylen. Leliana put a hand on Josephine and drew her back knowing that a smite can affect others in the area.

“Ready, lass?” Gwen nodded. He placed the tip of his sword on the stone floor and moments later Gwen shuddered as she felt the sensation of flames licking across her skin but she didn’t waver under the onslaught. The dragon souls within her roused themselves aggravated by the attack; she heard several gasps from the others in the room and she knew that her eyes were flickering and glowing from within as a result. She cast a fireball in her hands to show that her abilities hadn’t been blocked and quickly dispelled the fireball herself. Josephine looked queasy and had been helped to sit down by Leliana who didn’t look nearly as bad but not her usual self. Cullen, Max, and Cassandra were all grimacing slightly; that was the only indication that they had felt the smite.

“Silence her.”

Rylen lifted his sword from where it was resting point down on the floor. He looked at Gwen and after a moment’s hesitation, a look of concentration crossed his face and she could feel _something_ pass over her. It didn’t hurt like the smite but her skin tingled momentarily. The dragon souls; however, were enraged. Normally, Gwen needed to use a shout to have her dragon aspect ability manifest, but the dragon souls were acting in self defense. Everyone jumped in alarm as she was suddenly surrounded by ethereal dragon scales that flickered and glowed like flames. A strange chiming echoed off the Chantry’s stonework.

Gwen noticed that each of them, minus Josephine, had drawn a weapon. At that moment she decided to play with them. With a grin, she shouted “ _Faas Ru Maar_ ”. She giggled at their shocked looks as they were all forced to drop their weapons; even Josephine had been forced to drop her quill and writing board. She didn’t want to hurt them, so shouted a single word “ _Fus_ ” to make them stagger back from where their weapons lay on the floor. The full power of her shout would likely have killed them especially with the additional strength she got from the dragon aspect but the single word just gave them a good stagger like a half-hearted shield bash. Feeling cocky, she turned her back on them and found a stool she placed in the middle of the room and sat on it waiting for them to gather themselves again.

“What is that?” Max asked as he cautiously approached.

“My dragon aspect,” Gwen replied turning to look at him; her voice sounded as if there were multiple voices speaking as one.

Rylen approached as well and swept his hand through the swirling energy that surrounded her only to draw back in surprise when he couldn’t touch her. His hand was blocked when it contacted any area that was covered with the glowing armour that surrounded her. “Lass, that’s… incredible. You’re – ” he cleared his throat not wanting to say something too personal before his commanding officer, “it’s beautiful.” She turned to Rylen and saw the look of awe in his face. She blushed.

Leliana smirked, “well at least we now know that Gwen will be able to hold her own against the Templars if we send her to Therinfal Redoubt to address the Order, and things aren’t as they should be based on the Lord Seeker’s behaviour in Val Royeaux. Assuming, that we decide to go that route.” The last comment Gwen recognized as a dig at the Commander who responded with a scowl.

“Indeed,” Josephine replied. She still looked a bit shaken but was doing her best to restore her calm demeanor. “There are families that have agreed to help and are on their way here to join us.” The advisors continued to talk as they left the undercroft, Max shot her a wink and joined the advisors leaving Gwen alone with Rylen. 

“Did you want to go back up, lass?”

“I’m going to wait until this,” she indicated her ethereal armour, “quits. I don’t really want to wander around Haven scaring everyone. It won't be too long.”

“Alright. I can wait with you,” he said pulling up a stool and sinking down onto it with a quiet groan.

“Are you alright, Rylen? You look a bit worse for wear.”

“I’m fine, just tired. It doesn’t usually require that many attacks to subdue a mage,” he said with an apologetic glance. Gwen reached out to him and a golden glow surrounded her hand as she touched him. His eyes widened, “what did you do?”

“Sorry, I should have asked. I cast a healing on you. It also restores your stamina.”

“I feel much better. Thank you, lass.” He grabbed her hand as she withdrew and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist. He enjoyed watching her reaction as she sucked in a breath and a blush rose to her cheeks. “Tell me about how you got this,” he waved at the armour that still swirled around her while he continued to stroke his thumb over the inside of her wrist.

“I’m not the first Dragonborn. There was a cult on an island that worshipped the first Dragonborn, Miraak. They tried repeatedly to kill me in his name.”

Rylen snorted, “you do have a way to making friends, don’t you?”

“I suppose so,” Gwen laughed. “I ended up having to go to that island and confronting Miraak who was jailed in a realm within Oblivion – I guess that would be like the Fade, here… I learned how to do this on that island.” The armour suddenly faded out of existence leaving them in silence.

Rylen’s eyes widened. “You’ve physically walked in the Fade?”

“Um, I don’t know? Solas said that they – the Fade and the realm of Oblivion – sound similar but they aren’t necessarily one and the same.” She shrugged, then noticing that he still held onto her wrist gave it a gentle tug. “Can we get out of here now?”

Rylen stood up and helped her up off her stool, “of course, lass.” He rested his hand on her waist, “I am sorry for hurting you today.”

Gwen reached up and ran her fingers along his jaw, “I know.”

* * *

Max went to Redcliffe and returned with a strange tale of the Grand Enchanter having no memory of meeting him in Val Royeaux and requesting a meeting with the Inquisition, and a Tevinter magister that had arrived and indentured the mages. Stranger still, the group had disturbing tales of rifts behaving abnormally and the horrifying murders of Tranquil. The trip wasn’t a total loss; however, as they did return with a new ally.

Gwen strolled into the tavern to grab some supper before heading over to meet up with Nera and Liesel.  She hadn’t been able to work with them for a few days due to some tasks assigned to her by advisors that had kept her busy, but this evening she was going to join them for the evening around the campfire in their camp. It was the first time that she had been invited to spend time within that very cautious group and she was going to take them up on the invite.

“Hey Gwen, come on over here and meet our new friend,” Max called out waving her over as he spotted her at the counter. A man with flawlessly tanned skin, carefully styled hair and moustache stood up as she approached. His clothes were immaculate and from what Gwen could tell, were also probably quite expensive. “Dorian, this is Gwen. Gwen, this is Dorian.”

“Dorian, of House Pavus, at your service,” the man said in a silky voice as he made a flourished bow.

She slowly walked around Dorian appraising him until she was in front of him again. She could tell he was a mage, he reminded her of another arrogant mage she had met, Marcurio, back in Riften. She looked up into his face, “so pretty and arrogant, but sadly not at my service. Pity.” She turned and walked away.

“Well, that was…” Varric said shocked as he stared at Gwen’s back as she left.

“Hot,” Bull said also watching Gwen walk away but for an entirely different reason than the dwarf.

Dorian grinned, “I think I’m going to like her.”

Rylen sat in the corner of the tavern watching the whole interaction between Gwen and the handsome Tevinter mage. Jealousy curled in his stomach as he clenched his teeth watching her flirt with the other man. The mage was closer to her age and from the casual confidence he saw displayed earlier before she came in, he was sure that the man would appeal to her. To his surprise, after the flirting behaviour, she didn’t join the group but dismissed the mage and left the group. He smiled; perhaps the mage didn’t appeal to her after all.


	13. The Walking Draugr

While the Inquisition waited for an invitation for Max to go back and meet with the Tevinter magister to negotiate for the mages and for the noble families from Orlais to arrive to accompany Gwen to Therinfal to treat with the Templars, they received word that scouts and soldiers were disappearing in the Fallow Mire. They stopped in the Hinterlands and left Varric and Blackwall to keep an eye on any Venatori movements in Redcliffe. Max, Gwen, Cassandra, Dorian, and Iron Bull continued to the Fallow Mire. As they rode closer to their destination, the clouds moved in and a constant drizzle started to fall.

“Fields of mud. Ugh,” Dorian helpfully chipped in. “What do they call this? A ‘bog’? Lovely word.”

“Better hike up your skirt, mage boy,” Iron Bull teased.

“I'm not wearing a skirt.” Gwen snickered at the mage’s indignant reply. He really was too pretty to be traipsing around in the mud. Max ignored the sniping between the two as he and Cassandra met up with Scout Harding to get brought up to speed on the situation.

Gwen slid off Shadowmere and wandered around the edge of camp. The place smelled of mold and decay which wasn’t much of a surprise considering they were standing on the edge of a swamp in the pouring rain, but it was another more familiar scent that caught her attention. She walked to the edge of the water and whispered, “ _Laas Yah Nir_.”

“What is it?” the qunari asked her quietly as he stepped up beside her.

“Draugr. A lot of them.”

“Draugr? I’m not familiar with that term,” Dorian said stepping up to her other side.

She shrugged, “I don’t know what you call them; when the dead come back to life and walk around.”

“Ah, undead. Fortunately for you, I have a great deal of experience with the undead so you have nothing to fear, my dear.”

“Excellent. We can leave the ‘Vint to play with the dead and we can stay here,” Iron Bull offered Gwen with a wag of his eyebrows.

She scoffed, “I’m not afraid of draugr. I practically cut my fighting teeth on them.” Dorian gagged and made a disgusted face at the mental imagery.

Bull laughed, “too bad, I was looking forward to staying in camp and lifting your skirts out of the mud.” Gwen rolled her eyes at him, then concentrating on her fire shout, _Yol,_ enough to tickle in the back of her throat and she exhaled a puff of smoke as a warning to him. He chuckled again, “you know that might scare off the humans but it just turns me on.” She was saved having to respond when Max and Cassandra joined them.

“The missing patrols are being held hostage by Avvar. Barbarians from the mountains; they’re holed up in the castle on the other side of the Fallow Mire,” Max said as he joined them at the water’s edge.

“There’s just all the undead and demons between us and them,” Cassandra said with disgust.

“My dear Seeker, I thought you were Nevarran royalty. Surely one such as yourself would be undisturbed by the dead.”

“I do not share the fascination with the Mortalitasi as do others of my family, Dorian. I find it… deeply unsettling. And the undead, more so.”

“Well gear up. We still have a few hours of light, more or less, to start working our way through this mess. Our men are counting on us,” Max told them. They geared up and took the opportunity to tuck healing potions and fire grenades into the pouches on their belts. Fire was very effective on the undead.

Gwen ranged ahead of the group scouting the path through the bog. She kept her bow at the ready picking off any shambling corpses she saw wandering around by itself before it could get to the group or alert others to their presence. She heard a splash behind her followed by some cursing. When she turned to look, there were multiple corpses rising from the water behind her and Max was struggling to get out of the water back to dry land where he drew his sword and shield as did Cassandra. “Careful! Disturbing the water draws them out,” called Max. Iron Bull had already had his huge battle axe out and bellowed out in glee attracting the undead to him. Gwen felt a shimmer and knew that Dorian had cast a shield over the others; she was too far out of range but that didn’t concern her, she had her own shields if needed.

Giggling to herself, she shot a corpse that was just coming into range of the Iron Bull dropping it before he could swing his axe. He moved to another pair but she quickly shot them before he arrived. “Hey, quit stealing my kills!”

“Then move faster!” she replied heading further through the bog after the last undead was taken down. She heard him grumble behind her.

“This can't be all of them. There must be more further in,” Max commented as he wiped the slime and bits of undead flesh from his sword. “Stay on your guard.”

They moved into an abandoned village that looked as if everyone just picked up and left one day in a hurry. “Look. Signs of a plague,” Max said pointing out markings on the doors of some of the huts.

“A cheerful addition to any decent swamp,” Dorian added, looking around sadly. “At least in the city, you can find a decent healer. Out here you have, what? Roots and berries?”

“It must have been a terrible illness; the afflicted never made it far enough to spread the disease past this bog,” Cassandra said checking another hut.

Gwen rubbed on a window to a hut to peer within, “nor far enough to get help.”

Something in Gwen’s voice made Cassandra look in the window herself. “Oh,” she said softly. Two bodies were huddled together in a bed and another, much smaller corpse, was collapsed against the door. “We should burn everything to make sure that this doesn’t spread but we’ll do it on the way back so we don’t give away our position to the Avvar.” Everyone nodded in agreement.

They continued down the path until they came to a rise that had an unlit brazier on it. Gwen called a flames spell to hand to light the brazier but it refused to catch. She cocked her head to the side studying it. “What’s wrong? Not mage enough to light a fire,” Bull teased. She lopped a fireball at him which he mostly dodged. He grinned as he patted out a scorched mark on his pants.

“It requires magical flame but not any kind I’ve ever seen. Dorian?” she asked stepping away to make space for the mage.

Dorian stepped up and after a moment’s consideration made a flamboyant gesture lighting the brazier. “And there you – ” Before he could finish whatever it was that he was about to say, there was an eerie wail and screeching coming from several directions around the beacon.

“The beacons seem to draw out the undead. Watch yourselves,” Cassandra called out as everyone spread out around the top of the hill to face the approaching corpses.

“We could use these, lure those corpses out of the mud and fight on solid ground.” Bull grunted as he slammed his great axe into two corpses that reached him.

“Alright, we’ll look for more beacons after we deal with these.” Max charged forward slamming his shield into a pair of corpses knocking them back before lopping off their heads as they struggled to regain their feet.

They cleared the undead that rose when they lit the beacon and moved further into the bog, following the dry path until the got to another beacon. They spread themselves out on the top of the rise and Dorian lit the brazier. As the brazier flared up with the green veilfire, the dead rose with a screech. Gwen fired arrows picking off the dead in rapid succession, including two approaching Bull. “What did I say about stealing my kills,” he growled at her.

“Move faster,” she said in a sing-song voice with a laugh.

The light was fading when they found a high dry spot in the swamp that backed up against high walls of stone. It was an easily defensible location so they decided to set up for the night before moving deeper into the swamp at dawn’s light. They put up the three tents they had to accommodate the five of them, Bull needing one for himself due to his size.

“Your magic is very interesting,” Dorian said sitting down beside Gwen. “I can sense the magic when it has been cast but can’t sense your power behind it.”

“Your magic feels the same way to me. Solas said the same thing. He can feel the spell but not the magicka powering it.”

“Magicka?”

“The source of power. Some theories say it the remnants of Magnus’ power, one of the first gods, when he was destroyed. Another theory is that when the world was created and the sky formed, holes were ripped through the heavens and magic leaks through the stars.”

“How charming. So templars…” Gwen glanced quickly at him and he narrowed his eyes as he contemplated her. “Templars have no effect on you, do they?”

“No, they don’t. But we have only just discovered that fact and aren’t making it common knowledge,” she cautioned him.

Dorian laughed, “never fear, I won’t spill your secrets. But when we get back to Haven, I insist that you show me some of your marvelous magic.” Gwen agreed finding that she quite liked this mage, after all.

* * *

In the morning, they quickly moved through the swamp now that they knew that the beacons would hasten the dead to their location rather than having to pick at them in the mud. Gwen got to see her first rift since the one she arrived through. She was pleased to see how proficient Max was with closing the rifts now and the group worked very well together as they cut through the demons and undead that were drawn to the rift. They came across an empty camp that looked to have been an Inquisition camp at one point. “No sign of the Avvar who want to challenge me. Or the Inquisition's soldiers,” Max said looking at the faded tracks in the mud and debris that made it apparent that the camp had been attacked. “I do hope the Avvar know how hostages work and haven’t gotten bored with holding them.”

“They’ll pay, in any case,” Cassandra vowed.

After lighting all the beacons and clearing a path through the undead, they arrived at Hargrave Keep only to find the road and bridge to the keep itself swarming with an army of undead. “More undead. How are we going to get through that?” Max asked.

“They're endless! Run for the castle!” Cassandra suggested.

Gwen stopped Cassandra with a hand on her arm, “wait, I have an idea. Stay behind me.” Cassandra nodded, while the others stood back watching curiously. Gwen crept as close as she could without alerting the undead to her presence, then shouted, “ _Strun Bah Qo._ ” The clouds rolled overhead and a deafening clap of thunder sounded before multiple forks of lightening came streaking down from the sky striking and arcing through the undead clearing the path.

“Maker, that was…” Dorian gasped in awe. “Even I can’t call lightening like that.” The others stood there staring at the steaming scorch marks on the ground before them.

“Let’s go,” Max called out pulling everyone out of their stunned immobility. They all raced across the bridge and met Gwen who was already inside the Keep picking off Avvar archers with her own bow.

“There’s a lever above us for the gate,” she told Max as he joined her. “Go get it and I’ll pick off any more that come through the gate.” He nodded and headed up the stairs with Cassandra and Dorian. Bull waited at the closed gate with Gwen.

“Hey Gwen,” Max called from above. “Can you pick a lock?”

“Can I pick a lock?” Gwen scoffed. “I didn’t become the leader of the Thieves Guild simply because of my charm and good looks. Can I pick a lock, he asks. In my sleep!” Bull snorted at her tirade as she took off up the stairs to help Max with the lock. A few minutes later, she dropped off the walkway to land beside Bull again. “They found some loot and Grey Warden artifacts. Should be joining us for the fun in a few.”

Bull looked at her with an appraising eye, “you are having fun, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a _good_ fight. Sparring and hunting is all well and good, but it’s not nearly as fun as cutting a swath through enemies.”

“Care to make a wager on most kills in there?” he tossed his head to the keep beyond the gate. “Blades only, no bows, no ‘magic from the sky’. Winner’s choice.”

“Not saying that you’ll win, but I’m not having sex with you.”

“Nah, that’s fine. Little thing like you probably couldn’t handle it any way,” Bull replied casually.

Gwen narrowed her eyes, she knew he was taunting her trying to get her to take the bait, but she wasn’t falling for the ploy. “Winner presents three options, loser is allowed two vetoes.”

“Done.”

Gwen swung her blades warming up for the looming battle. The others joined them at the now opened gate. “Cassanda and Bull, you’re with me. Gwen and Dorian provide ranged support,” Max snapped out orders as they hurried forward towards where the Avvar barbarian, Hand of Korth, waited with his challenge to the Herald of Andraste.

 _What?_ Gwen closed her eyes in frustration as Bull laughed. She already lost the bet before the first swing was made. _Fuck._

The Avvar were ferocious warriors. Max immediately squared off against their leader who was swinging around a huge two-handed hammer that Gwen doubted she’d even be able to lift even with the abilities she had from being Dragonborn. She spared him a quick look before rapidly firing arrow after arrow to take out any Avvar that thought to interfere with the fight or try to flank Cassandra and Bull. She could feel Dorian’s magic flare as he dropped barrier spells over the fighters and kept the other Avvar busy. Gwen cast a Frost Atronach spell sending it in to attack the Avvar, one of which became frozen and she saw Bull smash with a blow of his axe. She giggled when she saw three Avvar attack her Atronach; certainly, the Atronach wouldn’t last too long but it put them all into close range so that Dorian fried them in a cage of lightning.

Once all the Avvar were dead, Gwen hopped off her perch joining the others in the courtyard. Max tossed her a rusty key which she assumed was to wherever the hostages were held. “ _Laas Yah Nir_ ,” she whispered. A room to the left of the courtyard lit up with the auras of living people; some auras were flickering and weak. She hurried to the room and unlocked the door. With a hand on one of her knives, she carefully opened the door to find the missing Inquisition soldiers.

“Thank the Maker, you found us,” an elven scout exclaimed as she pulled herself up from the floor where she had been sitting.

“Are you alright?” Gwen caught her elbow as the scout wavered on her feet and helped her sit back down.

“For the most part, my lady. We’re mostly hungry and thirsty. Scout Hall is ill, and one soldier has died from the same illness.” Gwen glanced over to where the scout indicated and was saddened to see that it was the same Scout Hall she had travelled with to Redcliffe just a few weeks earlier. He lay feverish and delirious in one corner.

“How soon after you arrived did the soldier and Hall get sick?”

“Um, the soldier started showing signs one day after we were captured. So that would have been three days in the Fallow Mire. Hall got sick around the same time.”

“Why did the soldier die but Hall hasn’t if they sickened at the same time?”

The scout looked sad, “the soldier was injured. We tried to clean out the wound but we realised too late that the water is the source of the plague.” Gwen handed out some rations to the hostages and handed her waterskin, which had water carried into the bog, to the elven scout and bade them stay put while she got help for them.

She ran into Cassandra just as she exited the room and pulled her aside. Waving the others over, she said, “most of the hostages are well, just hungry and thirsty. But one has signs of illness which may or may not be the plague. One soldier is dead from the same illness; he was injured with an open wound. They need to be quarantined. So should we, for that matter. Do your alchemists have any sort of potion to cure disease? I haven’t seen the ingredients I need to make the one I know.”

“What ingredients do you need?” Dorian asked curiously.

“Skeever hide, mudcrab chitin, hawk feathers, vampire dust – any two ingredients will do.” The others shook their heads; they had no idea where to get those ingredients. “My healing spell won’t cure illnesses,” she added sadly.

“Nor mine,” Dorian replied looking grim.

“We took samples of the plague victims which the Tranquil could use to create a cure but that will take time,” Max said.

“Not to mention that someone has to get that sample to the Tranquil and could carry the disease to Haven,” Cassandra added. “No, we will need to wait to make sure no one else is infected.”

“The scout said symptoms showed up after three days in the bog. If we retreat from the bog so we are away from the water to a clean source and wait a week, we should have a good idea if anyone is going to get sick,” Gwen told them.

“Scout Harding’s group will need to retreat with us and if they are fine, they can take the samples back to Haven ahead of us,” Max concluded. “Alright, we have a plan.”

They headed out of the Fallow Mire with the soldiers that were held hostage, Harding’s scouts, and Max’s group. Behind them fires burned the corpses, huts, and anything else that could possibly pass the plague to others should they stumble upon the area. They set up camp several hours walk with the fire glow on the horizon behind them. They sorted through their resources to manage their quarantine for a week and discovered that they were going to be a tent short for the hostages as most of their equipment was destroyed when the Avvar had attacked them.

“Give them one of our tents. Gwen can share with me since she’s the smallest, then you three can have the remaining tent,” Bull suggested. _Sly bastard_ , Gwen thought. The others looked to her to see if she was okay with that arrangement. It wasn’t ideal, to say the least, but under the circumstances she couldn’t fault the logic so she nodded.

 “Well this worked out quite well,” Bull said quietly as he entered the tent to find Gwen spreading out her bedroll. She ignored him. “I hope you don’t snore since we will be sharing the tent for a week.” He lay down on his bedroll with his hands under his head as he studied the canvas above them grinning to himself as Gwen grumbled and swore at him under her breath before she threw herself down on her bedroll with her back to him.


	14. Envy

No one else came down with the sickness, and both, Hall and Max, made full recoveries. Leliana and Cullen met everyone when they arrived back in Haven. “It’s good that you were not delayed further. We have news. If you are able, we should meet in the War Room immediately. Gwen as well,” Leliana said as Max and Cassandra sent their mounts off with Dennet and his stable hands then followed Leliana and Cullen to the Chantry. Gwen slid off Shadowmere and the spirit horse wandered off to its own devices.

Nera rushed up with Liesel close behind, “Gwen! We heard that you were quarantined because of a plague!”

“Yes, we were Nera but we found the cure. We’re all okay. I have to go up to the Chantry now but I’ll see you later, alright?”

The elven woman threw her arms around Gwen hugging her. “I’m glad you’re fine. We’ll see you later.”

Gwen turned and headed up the stairs and spotted Rylen running drills with the recruits. He nodded to her, and she gave a quick wave back before heading through the gates of Haven and out of sight. Rylen breathed a sigh of relief and returned his focus to the recruits in front of him.

Gwen pushed open the door of the war room and slipped in quietly. She sidled up to Dorian who was leaning against the wall with a pleased look on his face. “Then it’s settled. I will go to Redcliffe and Alexius with Cassandra and Varric. Dorian will get in with Leliana and her scouts,” Max summarized. “Now what about the templars?”

“Representatives from the noble houses of Orlais have arrived and they will accompany us to Therinfal and demand that the templars help us close the breach,” Leliana replied.

Cullen frowned, “you believe that will work?”

“Even the Lord Seeker would find it difficult to ignore so many nobles on his doorstep,” Cassandra answered.

“Yes, especially when led by the Lady Dragonborn,” Leliana added turning to address Gwen.

“If it helps prevent the sky from ripping open, I’m listening,” Gwen said stepping up to the group.

“Rumours that you arrived through the Fade and of your martial skill have grown legion among the templars,” Leliana said. Gwen noticed a slight frown by Cullen that he quickly hid. “The Dragonborn and a few companions could easily be set aside but that same Dragonborn with noble support will be reconsidered as will the power of the Inquisition.”

“If I have a growing reputation,” Gwen smirked, “then we should use it.”

“If it moves the templars to question the Lord Seeker’s orders, he may rethink his stance.”

“With respect Cassandra, after his appearance in Val Royeaux – hang what the Lord Seeker thinks!” Cullen spat. Gwen looked at the commander in surprise.

“We do not need the Lord Seeker,” Leliana agreed with Cullen. “We need his templars with or without his approval. The breach will not wait for our differences to settle.”

“I will accompany the group to Therinfal; Rylen will take command in Haven with the troops stationed here for the duration,” Cullen said.

Max nodded, “take Blackwall as well. Wardens are respected by everyone.” Leliana hid her smile at his naiveté.

“Vivienne would be a good choice; she would be useful as a buffer between you and the nobles Commander, as well as she is a loyalist mage so would be a good show of faith to the templars,” Cassandra added. Gwen choked on a laugh when she saw Cullen’s scowl at the inclusion of the haughty Orlesian mage. _Oh, this is going to be a_ charming _trip! Thank the Divines she’ll have Blackwall to talk to._

* * *

As expected, the trip to Therinfal Redoubt wasn’t the most pleasant of trips. The nobles complained about _everything_ ; the food, the weather, the accommodations, the rate of travel. Cullen grumbled and scowled at the nobles, who in turn complained about his behaviour to Vivienne. Vivienne tried to sooth the nobles, and then chided the Commander making his mood even more foul. Gwen was ready to scream, or at the very least, set them all on fire and ride off into the woods. On the second day, Blackwall rode up beside her and surreptitiously handed her a flask. “Oh, thank the gods for you, Blackwall! I could kiss you,” Gwen teased as she took a drink from the proffered flask. The liquid burned a trail down her throat making her suck in a hissing breath before coughing as the alcohol caught her breath.

“Too strong for you, my lady?” Blackwall asked with a grin hidden in his beard.

“Nope, just haven’t had anything decent like this in ages,” she cheerfully replied taking another cautious sip before handing the flask back to him. “Somehow I don’t think that flask is going to last long enough for this trip.”

The normally stoic man chuckled, “you might be right. The commander looks ready to crack his own teeth.”

Gwen looked toward the front of the line where the commander was currently riding. She could see he had his shoulders hunched up around his ears as one of the nobles, a Lord Esmeral Abernache, was prattling along at him. “Perhaps we should help?” They both cantered up the line coming up on either side of Cullen, Gwen placing herself between him and the noble. “Oh please do pardon me, my Lord Abernache, but we need to have a private word with the commander. I do hope you won’t mind if we steal him from you for a little while,” she cooed at the noble who took the bait; hook, line, and sinker.

“Of course not, my lovely lady. I look forward to chatting with you later as well,” Abernache said with a flourished kiss to the back of her hand before he pulled up on his horse’s reins and fell into line with Vivienne.

“Maker’s breath, _thank you_ for that. I thought he’d never shut up,” Cullen said. Gwen noticed Blackwall quietly pass the flask to him, he hesitated for a moment before taking a sip and handing it back. The warden indicated to pass it to Gwen who also took a drink before sending it back. Cullen looked at her in surprise, “I never would have guessed that you could interact with the nobles like that or so well.”

Gwen assumed a sweet look on her face and said softly, “really, my lord? You do not think I’m capable of being sweet and soft like a good woman and show deference to _such_ an important man?” She tipped her head to the side coyly as she caught her lower lip in her teeth as she gazed back at him, fluttering her lashes for extra effect.

Cullen blushed and stuttered, “I, uh – well… uh, if you put it like that…”

Gwen flashed him a feral grin changing from the coquettish girl to the fierce rogue in a moment. “It makes it all the more fun when you shank them later because they _never_ see it coming.”

Cullen sputtered as Blackwall burst out laughing, “Maker’s balls, I’m glad you’re on our side.”

“You’re dangerous, but I think I might have misjudged you – badly,” Cullen admitted. “I’m sorry I’ve made things so difficult for you.”

“It’s alright commander. You aren’t the first to do so, but I think you’re the first to apologize for it. I appreciate it.”

When they finally arrived at Therinfal, the nobles decked out in their finest clothing and silly masks, flitted about the area is if going to a garden party. The Inquisition members, on the other hand, were dressed in their armour highly polished, looking very professional, and very capable. They strode up through the gates towards the closed portcullis. A servant, Gwen assumed one of Abernache’s, started to introduce him to a templar, Ser Delrin Barris, who brushed past the servant and stopped before Gwen, flanked by Cullen and Blackwall. “I’m the one who sent word to Cullen,” he said with a nod to the commander. “He said that the Inquisition works to close this breach in the Veil. I didn’t think you’d bring such… lofty company.”

“Barris? Moderate holdings. And the second son, bah!” Abernache said with scorn trying to unsettle the templar after being brushed off by the same.

“This promise of status has garnered interest by the Lord Seeker… beyond sense. The sky burns with magic but he ignores all calls to action until your friends arrived,” he sighed and stepped closer to Gwen and addressed her quietly. “The Lord Seeker’s actions make no sense. He promised to restore the Order’s honour then marched us here to wait. Templars should know their duty even when held from it. Win over the Lord Seeker and every able-bodied knight will help the Inquisition seal the Breach.”

“If you think we’re right, abandon the Lord Seeker and _help_ us,” Gwen said.

“We can’t abandon our orders. Not while the officers who survived the Conclave follow him. We’ve been asked to accept much after that shameful display in Val Royeaux. Our truth changes on the hour.”

“Don’t keep your _betters_ waiting, Barris. There is important work for those born to it,” Abernache declared. Gwen gritted her teeth to bite back the scathing retort she wished she could give voice to but now was not the time to put the noble in his place.

Barris turned away and led them in past the portcullis to a courtyard. He turned to Gwen as they walked, “the Lord Seeker has a request before you meet him.” He stopped them before three flags. “These are the standards; an honoured Rite centered on the people, the Maker, and the Order. The Lord Seeker asks that you perform the Rite so that he may see the order in which you honour them.”

“The Lord Seeker requires this Rite in order to meet the Inquisition?”

“Not the Inquisition.” Barris turned to her. Gwen could see a sudden tension in the man, “The Lord Seeker changed everything to meet you; not the Inquisition, you. By name, Lady Dragonborn.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. We were expecting the Herald but he’s been fixated on _you_ since word that you were coming.”

“The Lord Seeker makes us shuffle flags around? Refuse! Let’s meet the man already!” Abernache demanded.

“Since the Lord Seeker is so interested in me, then he has my answer,” Gwen said waving her hands at the flags in the current position. “I have no interest in the politics or hierarchy of the Order so my answer stands.”

“Can we get on with this? You helmed louts are wasting the Inquisition’s time and _my_ time. Unacceptable!” Abernache ranted. Gwen shot him a dirty look.

Barris sighed, “the Lord Seeker awaits you both. Follow me.” Abernache and Barris continued to argue as they stood in the hall of the keep awaiting the arrival of the Lord Seeker, Lucius Corin. Barris startled as another group of templars entered the room, “Knight-Captain Denam?”

“You were expecting the Lord Seeker. He sent me to die for you.”

Gwen traded confused looks with Barris. “Knight-Captain Denam; I am expected by the Lord Seeker. Where is he?”

“Yes, let me also extend a gracious hand – ” Abernache started but was cut off by Denam who chuckled darkly. Abernache stepped back stiffly, suddenly afraid.

“The Lord Seeker had a plan but the Herald ruined it by sending you in his stead. You have sown too much dissent.”

Barris stepped up quickly. “Knight-Captain, I must know what is going on?” he asked urgently.

“You are all supposed to be changed! Now we must purge the questioning knights.” Barris stepped back in confusion looking around the room. “The Elder One is coming. No one will leave Therinfal that isn’t stained red.”

Gwen heard the familiar twang of a bow string releasing and she quickly shot forward yanking Abernache down as an arrow ricocheted off her armour that had been meant for him. “Stay down,” she hissed at him. “Cullen!” she yelled. “A little help!”

“Maker’s breath,” Barris gasped as more arrows flew and swords were drawn around them.

“What are these things? They’re monstrous!” Gwen exclaimed as she drew her blades and blocked a sword swung at her by Denam.

“We’ve noticed,” Vivienne drawled finally separating herself from the nobles to assist.

 “They’re templars!” Cullen said in shock as the templars, glowing with red corruption, started to step out of the shadows that surrounded the group. He rushed up beside Gwen to help her with Denam as Blackwall and Vivienne protected the nobles and other civilians. The battle around them was vicious and bloody as several nobles and their servants were caught by corrupted templars before the Inquisition troops could respond and protect them.

Gwen focused on Denam trusting that the others could take care of the rest; Denam was inhumanly strong and fast. “ _Krii Lun Aus_ ,” Gwen shouted at Denam weakening his armour and stamina to create an opening for her or Cullen to bring him down. The knight-captain was extremely good and Gwen was having a hard time getting past his shield so with a quick glance at Cullen, she took a deep breath and shouted again, “ _Faas Ru Maar_!” Denam staggered dropping his shield but managed to hold onto his sword; Cullen and Gwen pounced on the opportunity. Cullen shield bashed him knocking the sword from Denam’s grasp as she dove under his empty shield arm and whipped her sword across the back of his legs hamstringing him as she drove the other sword under the edge of his cuirass.

“Don’t kill him!” Cullen called out as she whirled to take off Denam’s head as he dropped forward after falling to his knees.

Barris ran up looking at the prone Denam on the floor in a spreading pool of blood. “Is the Knight-Captain alive?”

“Barely,” Gwen said as she pulled her fingers away from the downed man’s neck. “If you use a healing potion on him, he may survive. If he even deserves it…”

“We’ll heal him,” Cullen replied. “The Herald can judge the Knight-Captain after we have dealt with his master.”

“He hardly deserves our charity,” Vivienne sniffed as she walked over from the huddled group of surviving nobles.

Barris searched Denam and handed a set of keys to Gwen then directed her to the central courtyard. “I would question the Lord Seeker about this Elder One.”

Hurrying through the courtyard they could hear the clash of weapons and screams of templars. “Prepare them. Guide them to me,” a deep resonant voice called out.

“Is that the Lord Seeker?” Gwen asked, hesitating for a moment.

“What? All I hear is fighting.” Blackwall replied.

“Show me what you are. You will be so much more. I will know you.” The voice seemed to echo within Gwen’s head, no one else appeared to hear it.

“I don’t know what is happening. All the officers… they’ve turned into those… things,” Barris said in distress as they cleared the courtyard rescuing a handful of trapped uncorrupted templars that were being hard pressed by the red templars before they headed into the upper part of the fortress. Gwen ran up the stairs following the trail of dead templars.

Bursting through the door at the top, the voice addressed her again, “Dragonborn, it’s time we became better acquainted. Come, show me what kind of woman you _really_ are.” Gwen ran up the steps with Cullen, Barris, and Blackwall hard on her heels. A templar stood with his back to them as she slowed down and approached cautiously.

“Lord Seeker?” Barris asked, recognizing the man.

Suddenly the Lord Seeker spun around and grabbed Gwen around the throat, she struggled against him but was unable to break his grasp before he dragged her _through_ the door. “No!” Cullen yelled as he and the others raced towards the doorway but they were brought up short by the sealed door.

* * *

Gwen found herself walking through a strange pillared courtyard surrounded by burning corpses. She didn’t know if they were templars or if they were the victims of the explosion at the Conclave. She didn’t know if she was even still at Therinfal. She cautiously walked through the rolling mist and fog as she wended her way around the pillars and corpses to find her way out of _wherever_ this was. The Lord Seeker was no where to be seen. Suddenly she saw Cullen and Josephine before her. “Cullen? Josephine? Can you hear me?”

Leliana strolled out of the fog, “is this shape useful? Will it let me know you?” The voice sounded like Leliana but at the same time, very much not like Leliana. “Everything tells me about you… so will this – ” it said as it walked up behind Cullen jerking his head back and placing a knife against his throat. “Watch,” it bade her.

Gwen didn’t flinch and kept her face impassive. “You’re a demon. Am I supposed to scream in terror next?” she asked. Not-Leliana slowly drew the knife across Cullen’s throat without taking its eyes off Gwen. Blood sprayed out following the knife’s passage and he collapsed to the floor and vanished.

“Scream in terror next!” Not-Leliana said in a horrid version of Gwen’s own voice before vanishing in the fog. Not-Josephine suddenly laughed and strolled forward playing with the bloody knife in her hands. “Being you will be so much more interesting than being the Lord Seeker,” she said before vanishing in the fog. Gwen looked around for her… it… Suddenly the voice spoke from behind her, “do you know what the Inquisition can become?” Gwen whirled around but no one was there. “You’ll see. When I’m done, the Elder One will kill you and ascend, and I will be you. War is coming and the Elder One wants you to serve him like everyone else by dying the right way.”

“Keep talking then.”

Not-Josephine strolled off in the fog. Gwen watched her go then another familiar accented voice spoke behind her, “I am not your toy, lass.” Gwen couldn’t stop the feeling of horror crawl up her spine as she turned and saw Not-Rylen standing before her. His face contorted with rage, “I am Envy. I will _know_ you. Tell me, Dragonborn, in your mind…” he strolled over to a ghostly replica of herself. “Tell me what you _think_.” He placed a gentle kiss on not-hers lips and caressed her face, then as he stepped back, he drove the blade up under the ribcage of not-her. “Tell me what you _feel_.” The ghostly version of herself fell to her knees choking on her own blood even as she reached forward to Not-Rylen before vanishing. “Tell me what you _see_.” Gwen suddenly found a bloody dagger in her hand which she threw down in horror.

 A door appeared before her and she headed through to find a way out. The scenery shifted around her, showing her what the Inquisition and the world would be like when Envy took control over her. “Do you see what the Inquisition will be after you die at the hands of the Elder One?”

“Is that the best you can do? Taunting me with a future that will never come to pass?”

“You’re hurting. Helpless. Hasty,” a soft male voice said. “What happens to the hammer when there are no more nails.”

“What are you?” the Envy demon demanded in anger. “Get out! This is my place!”

Gwen passed through another door to find a room that was upside down. It was empty. She turned to leave when the soft male voice stopped her. “Wait.” She looked around but there still wasn’t anyone there. She turned again to leave. “Envy is hurting you. Mirrors on mirrors on memories. A face it can feel but not fake. I want to help. _You_ not Envy.”

“Who are you?” she asked as she slowly turned in a circle examining the room and the shadows trying to see the speaker.

“I’ve been watching. I’m Cole. We’re inside you. Or I am… you’re always inside you as are the others. It’s easy to hear – harder to be a part of what you are hearing – but I’m here. Helping. I hope.” Gwen turned again and looked up and saw the young man standing on the ceiling. “Envy hurt you… is hurting you. I tried to help, then I was here in you in the hearing. It’s not usually like this. Is it always so crowded in you?”

“If you can explain this, I’m listening.”

“I was watching. I watch. Every templar knew when you arrived. They were impressed but not like the Lord Seeker.”

“The Lord Seeker is an Envy demon that wants to be me?”

“Yes. It twisted the captains and commanders and forced their fury, their fight. They’re red inside. But you’re frozen. Envy is trying to take your face. I heard it and reached out, then in, and then I was here.”

“So you are a spying phantom that accidentally enters minds? Did I leave anything out?”

“If it bothers you I can make you forget? That helps.” He dropped his head to concentrate when he looked up in surprise, “oh! They won’t let me. Probably for the best, you need all of you now to fight.”

“How is my body frozen back in the waking world?”

“Thoughts are fast. We’re here, outside a blade is still falling hanging in the air like a sunset.”

“If no time is passing, does that mean I’m safe?”

“No. It would be good if you got out.”

“Alright Cole. If you really want to help, how do I get out?”

“It’s your head. I was hoping you would know how to stop it.”

“Well I don’t.”

“ _Bex hahdrim Dovahkiin. Mu fen viik nii_.” (Open mind dragonborn. We will defeat it.) Gwen heard Mulmirnir’s voice rumble within her own mind.

“Yes. Yes. That will work,” the spirit boy whispered. “You need to go back to the door in your head. Make Envy stretch. Keep going up.” Gwen hurried through rooms and hallways looking for a way out of the door where she met the Lord Seeker. The Envy demon kept throwing up scenes of her friends slaughtered or imprisoned, Inquisition soldiers putting civilians to the blade, and forests of trees decorated with hung corpses. The scenes crumbled as Gwen opened a door and found herself entering the inner courtyard of Therinfal.

“Almost there. Keep going up. You’re making it harder for Envy to hang on.”

Gwen ran up the stairs. The Lord Seeker, Envy, grabbed her by the shoulder spinning her around before pinning her to the door by her throat, her feet dangling above the floor. “Unfair! Unfair! That thing kept you whole, kept you from giving me your shape!”

She choked and struggled to speak, “what would you gain from being me?”

“What could you gain? What gain? Bah! I was looking forward to meeting the Herald, but you lady Dragonborn, are a marvelous concession prize. I will take control over you and your powers will be mine. Let’s start again. More pain this time.”

Gwen gritted her teeth at the blinding pain where Envy placed a hand on her head, “if you think you can take me, then come and try.”

“It’s frightened of you,” Cole said appearing behind Envy.

“Get out of here!” Envy roared at the spirit, loosening its grip on Gwen.

Instantly she whipped her hands up breaking the hold on her throat and grabbed Envy’s throat in turn. Suddenly, she saw Envy’s true likeness gripped in her hands as a hideous white spider-like demon flipped and twisted on itself within her grip. She spotted her companions on the stairs where they were before she vanished into her own mind. “Kill it! Cullen, smite it.” She couldn’t help a squeal from escaping as Envy’s claws found a gap in her armour and sunk into her flesh. Templars surrounded them and as a one, they knelt. She felt the holy flames of their combined power roll over her as they cast their smite on the demon. She felt Envy weakening. “Mulmirnir, help me!” She hung on desperately as the ethereal form on Mulmirnir surrounded her lashing out at the demon trapped in her hold until finally the demon collapsed into ash and disappeared. Empty handed, she slid down the door letting her head thump against the door as she closed her eyes in exhaustion.

Barris stood over her, staring, not certain of what he had seen. “The Lord Seeker is caged, or dead. Maker… it used the red lyrium to corrupt the order, didn’t it? I knew that miserable stuff was risky. They offered us new kinds of lyrium; often our commanders would take it first to convince us it was harmless. That demon turned our leaders so we wouldn’t question when it started.”

“Will you keep blaming yourself, or will you help us end this?” Gwen said. Blackwall reached down and helped her to her feet. “As I see it, you have two options. Turn your back on your vows and join your corrupted brethren, or honour your vows and join the Inquisition to help us close the Breach and deal with whatever, or whomever, this Elder One is.”

“There are only a handful of us left. Most that questioned have died, the rest have… vanished. But we will come with you and help however we can,” Barris replied. Gwen nodded and they headed back to the main hall and the waiting nobles.

“Lady Dragonborn, it is good to see you alive,” Abernache said as she and the others arrived in the hall.

Gwen looked around the room and stopped in shock. “Abernache. Where is Knight-Captain Denam?”

“Uh… Four templars said they were under order from the Commander here to take Denam into custody.”

“How long ago?” Cullen demanded. The noble stuttered incoherently. “Maker! How long ago?”

“I don’t know! Fifteen minutes ago?”

“Damn it to Oblivion!” Gwen swore taking off at a run to the main gates. Outside the gates, she found carnage. Every horse, pony, and hart that had carried the Inquisition and nobles to Therinfal had been slaughtered. The wheels of the carriages and carts had been smashed and all the servants that had remained behind had been killed. She skidded to a halt gazing at the horror before her. Cullen, Blackwall, and Barris arrived close behind and quickly spread out looking for survivors. “ _Laas Yah Nir,_ ” Gwen whispered, hoping beyond hope that there were survivors. There were few; a stable lad that had managed to pull himself under a wagon, a ladies’ maid and a manservant that had hidden behind supply crates in a guard room. Everyone else was dead.

Gwen quickly started casting a healing spell on the stable lad to stop the bleeding. Using nearly all her magicka and satisfied that the boy was no longer in danger, she stood up and came face to face with Barris. “You’re a mage!”

“Yes, among other things.” She turned from him as Cullen and Blackwall approached looking grim.

“There are no other survivors,” Cullen told her. “We found…” he stopped and placed a hand under her elbow to steady her as she appeared to wobble.

Gwen nodded as tears pricked her eyes, “Shadowmere would have fought.”

“Yes. There were several dead templars close by.” She nodded again and started to crumple to the ground. Cullen wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her up and then flipped his hand over from where it had touched her side. It was red. “Maker’s breath, you’re bleeding. Blackwall get Vivienne. Gwen, where are you injured?”

“S’okay, it’s a slow leak,” she said sinking to the ground where she passed out.


	15. Cavalry to the Rescue

Gwen opened her eyes slowly, her mouth felt dry like she had been sucking on a wool sock. She grunted as she pulled herself up against the wall behind her so she could sit up. “Careful, my lady. You’re bandaged; Madame de Fer didn’t have enough mana to heal you with all the other injuries that were more serious, but she assured us that you would live.” Gwen eyeballed Blackwall.

“Water?”

“Oh, of course,” he replied handing her a waterskin and signalled to Cullen to join them. Gwen tipped back the skin and took a deep swallow. Her side burned like fury but she couldn’t sense any poison or infection in the wounds. _Thank the Divines for that, at least!_ She wasn’t wearing her dragonscale armour any more so it was a simple enough thing to yank up the tunic so she could see the injury. She tucked the end of the tunic under her chin and tried to find where the bandage started. Cullen arrived and saw her tugging on her bandages with her tunic pulled up under her chin. The tunic kept slipping down as she shifted to view the injury. In frustration, she whipped the tunic off and threw it on the ground beside her. “Maker’s breath woman, what are you doing?” he asked turning an alarming shade of red.

“I’m trying to assess the injury,” she growled. She pulled a knife out of her boot and slid it under the bandages cutting them. A golden glow bloomed under her hand as she ran the hand over the wounds along her side. Cullen watched her as her gaze became unfocussed concentrating on the magic spell. His gaze quickly slid over the scars that littered her skin; a puncture wound in her shoulder, a long wound that looked like someone tried to gut her on her belly above the waist of her breeches, and a variety of slashes and nicks littering her shoulders and arms. Add the extra marks from the Envy demon running down her ribs which were now sealed, but a livid red. “Okay, that should do it.” He looked away feeling guilty for having looked. “Give me a hand up,” she said, holding out her hand. Blackwall reached down and helped her up before Cullen could gather himself to respond as he was too busy trying to keep his eyes averted. She snickered when she realized what he was doing. “It’s okay, the important bits are hidden away.” She stood up with Blackwall’s assistance and immediately turned her back to them to pull her tunic on.

She heard someone gasp and was startled when she felt fingers lightly trace across her shoulder blade. “Maker, what…?” Cullen asked.

“I had the flames tattooed on after the burns healed. Dragon fire makes for an ugly burn. The tattoo is… less shocking.” She turned to face him and he snatched his hand away to rub at the back of his neck. Blackwall hid a grin in his beard. “So what is the situation? We have no horses or other means of travel. Are the other survivors able to walk out of here?”

Cullen smiled sheepishly but appreciated that she gave him an out so he didn’t dwell on his embarrassment. “Most of the survivors are mobile, if unappreciative of that fact. There are a few others that Vivienne needs to provide more healing for but she’s low on mana so is resting. Once they are more recovered, we can head out on foot, early tomorrow.”

“Do we have any way to let Haven know what has happened here so they can try to meet us part way? It took us just over seven days to get here on horseback, it’s going to be longer on foot unless they can meet us and bring horses.”

Cullen nodded, “We have sent a raven. The raven should take three to four days if the weather holds to arrive in Haven.”

“Barring any difficulties,” she glanced over at the nobles and sighed, “we should hopefully see them in a week’s time at about the half way point.” Cullen nodded again, impressed with her evaluation of the situation. “Where are the ones that need healing? The sooner we can get out of here, the better. Do either of you need any healing?” Both men shook their heads.

“I’ll take you,” Blackwall offered.

Blackwall and Gwen made their way to where the injured were settled alongside the wall of the keep. The stable lad she treated earlier was still needing some additional care so she stopped at him and started casting some more healing on him. “Thank you, my lady. Your healing feels nicer than the other lady’s.”

Gwen smiled at him. “Don’t say that too loudly or Lady Vivienne might turn me into a toad in a fit of jealousy. Croak!” she joked with the boy. He giggled at her. “Better now?”

“Yes, my lady. Thank you.”

Gwen moved through the injured servants and then the templars. “You have a good bedside manner,” Blackwall commented.

“When your destiny has you fighting dragons, and crawling through draugr or Falmer infested ruins on a regular basis, injuries aren’t that uncommon. If you want to keep your companions around, being somewhat decent with healing helps you not get left on your own too often.” The gruff man snorted with a laugh. “I’m tapped for magicka for the moment,” she said patting the last templar she treated on the shoulder and stood up.

She looked across the courtyard as she heard voices rise in argument. Abernache was standing in Cullen’s face yelling and jabbing a finger into the commander’s shoulder. _That was not going to end well._ Gwen and Blackwall hurried over.

“Is there a problem here?”

“Yes,” snapped Abernache. “I was just informing the commander that he has no right to order around his _betters_. We are not walking out of here but will wait for replacement horses and carriages to arrive.”

“I see. You do understand, my lord, that the corrupted templars know that we are here and could come back at any time?”

“Yes, which is why I was telling the commander we need to stay and close the gates. The templars can defend us…”

“So you want us to sit in a keep for a week plus surrounded by red lyrium that has already driven others mad while we wait for reinforcements?”

“Well… I uh, no,” the man stuttered. “that’s unacceptable –”

“I wholeheartedly agree, my lord,” she interrupted him. “You are absolutely right; leaving is the most strategically sensible thing to do as it removes the nobles from these dreadful conditions.” Gwen turned to Cullen, “Commander, how soon are we able to evacuate these important persons?”

Cullen’s lip twitched, “we can leave at first light. We are gathering what supplies we can now.”

“Excellent commander!” She turned back to Abernache, “I’m sure my Lord Abernache is relieved and will no doubt be sure to share with the other nobles your plans and utmost concern for their safety.” The noble’s mouth opened and closed a couple of times like a fish out of water before he nodded at her and left.

“You _are_ dangerous,” Blackwall said as soon as Abernache was out of earshot. Gwen turned back to the two men and found both with big smiles plastered on their faces.

She shrugged with a crooked smirk. “I try my best,” she said fluttering her lashes making them laugh.

* * *

In the morning, the surviving Inquisition forces, templars, nobles, and assorted support staff began their slow trek back to Haven. They managed to find some undamaged hand carts, previously used for moving animal feed and other supplies around the keep, that they pressed into service to bring along every last bit of food, water, medical supplies, and other items the templars considered important. At first, the nobles, while not thrilled with the early hours were more than happy to head out of Therinfal but the complaining soon began. Within a mile or two from Therinfal, they started complaining about sore feet. They complained about the dust of the road. About the rationing of food and water. They complained about the length of the day spent travelling and the sleeping conditions when everyone settled down for the night.

The second and third days were much the same and Gwen could see Cullen’s patience quickly fraying. She noticed that he pinched the bridge of his nose and rubbing the back of his neck more and more often as the days went by, the tension ticked in his jaw as he clenched his teeth in annoyance. “Commander,” she spoke quietly when she could approach him when he was alone. “Have you spoken to Vivienne regarding your headaches?”

“What? No, there is nothing wrong,” he said. “I don’t need her assistance.”

“I can _see_ your tension, it would be good to keep that from the others. I understand if you don’t want to ask Vivienne with your distrust of mages, but I can help if you permit.”

He nodded, “perhaps. I will find you when we stop for the night.”

When they finally stopped for the night, she was surprised that he did actually approach her. “Dragonborn, a word if you would?”

“Certainly Commander.” They strolled a little way from the group and stepped outside of anyone’s sight.

“You said you might be able to help?”

“I am going to use my healing magic. You know that your templar abilities can not affect my magic so,” she pulled out Mehrunes’ Razor and handed it to him hilt first. He looked at the blade in confusion. Gwen grabbed his hand with the dagger and held it against her throat. “A precaution for your peace of mind. Please be careful; the slightest nick could potentially kill me instantly.” She raised her hands to either side of his head without touching him and once again he watched as her eyes lost their focus as she concentrated on the spell she cast. From the corner of his eye he could see the golden glow form within the palms of her hands but could feel _nothing_ of the magic and its source, and yet a soothing feeling washed over him taking the pain and tension from him. He lowered the dagger away from her throat as she continued to cast her healing spell on him. Finally, she was finished and he was relaxed and pain free for the first time in days. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Yes.”

“Is lyrium addictive?”

Cullen’s hand holding the dagger jerked scraping the blade across the edge of her armour. “Why would you ask that? What do you know?” he hissed at her.

Gwen stayed very still carefully watching the man before her. “Easy… I’ve been watching the templars we’ve brought out of Therinfal. Every morning they swallow a small vial of glowy blue stuff I heard one of them call lyrium; some of the templars are all jittery beforehand and fine after. Kind of reminded me of people in Skyrim that I had met that were addicted to Skooma. They acted the same way between getting their fix. You said you were a templar but from what I’ve seen, you never take the stuff and you don’t smell like those templars either. Then add your headaches and a few other symptoms, and you seem like a person that’s in withdrawal from an addictive substance. Maybe I’m wrong.”

Cullen sighed and lowered the dagger again. “Who else knows?”

She shrugged, “just myself as far as I know. I’ve certainly not mentioned it to anyone.”

“The templars get their abilities to suppress magic with the lyrium. We take our vows committing our service to the Order and Chantry and we receive our first philter. When I left the Order, I wanted to free myself from those chains. I no longer take it.”

“Can it kill you – stop taking lyrium, I mean?”

“Yes, it could. No one has successfully done it before. Lyrium takes over your mind, eventually you begin to forget things. Small things at the start but more as time goes on. It can be a blessing for some of the things we see.”

She considered what he said for a few moments then narrowed her eyes at him, “Rylen takes it, doesn’t he? That’s what you meant about his draught the day he tested me. That’s why he tested me and not you.”

“You notice too much.”

“I wouldn’t be good at what I do if I didn’t. Look, I can help you if you will let me.” Cullen started to protest but she cut him off. “I _will not_ betray you, but I would like to help.”

“I will consider your offer,” he said stiffly, still feeling defensive and vulnerable at her revelations. She nodded and accepted the blade from him before he left. She watched him walk away considering what he had told her. She shook her head, _scared and paranoid addicts charged with guarding the thing they were afraid of – can’t imagine why that didn’t work out_.

* * *

The next few days followed in a similar pattern; chivying the nobles out of their bedrolls at first light, breaking everyone’s fast, and then travelling all day with a brief stop mid-day for rations and a rest. Gwen as well as a few templars that were good at tracking and moving with some measure of stealth in the woods – useful for hunting apostates and escaped mages she was told – ranged ahead and flanking the group to watch for red templars, bandits, or other unsavory groups that might prove dangerous to the nobles. As well, it provided them an opportunity to bring down wild game to supplement the dwindling rations they could carry out of Therinfal.

Gwen moved out ahead of the group putting distance between herself and the group using her Whirlwind Sprint shout a couple of times so she could make sure there was enough advanced notice in case they needed to scatter the nobles into the woods for protection. The road was empty and had been from some time based on the tracks she found. She stopped and pulled her waterskin out to have a drink before she planned to head back and check in when she heard a clink of metal. She quickly climbed the tree to look over the treeline towards the direction she heard the sound. It didn’t come from behind but in front of her. Once settled in the tree she pulled her bow from her shoulder and nocked an arrow and waited. The clink of metal armour sounded again and she turned towards it; whoever, or whatever it was, it was coming her way. In the distance she caught a flash of red. _Shit._ She quickly dropped out of the tree to find a better location that she could retreat from if necessary and set up behind some rocks to watch the approach of whatever was coming her way, and from the sound of it, there was more than one.

As the first horse came around the corner in the trail, Gwen breathed a sigh of relief. The flash of red was an Inquisition insignia and not a red templar as she had feared. She came out from behind the rocks and stood in the middle of the trail, playing with her bow, waiting for them. “Am I happy to see you lot!” she called out to them. The front line revealing Rylen, Iron Bull, and Sera. Behind them, Bull’s second, Krem, and other Chargers led extra horses. She grinned and sprinted towards Rylen’s horse and put her left arm out as she approached. Rylen, realising what she was doing, put his left hand down grasping her arm as she swung up behind him. “You’re a day earlier than we expected too.”

“The Herald sent us out immediately after the raven came in,” Rylen told her. “They had only returned the day before after securing an alliance with the mages.” She rested her hands on Rylen’s waist.

“Thank the Nine they had better luck than we did.”

“What happened?” Bull asked.

“The templars have been corrupted. The Lord Seeker, who wasn’t the Lord Seeker at all, but an Envy demon in disguise –”

“Fucking demons,” Bull growled.

“The Lord Seeker had, starting with the officers, fed the templars red lyrium. They’ve changed. The order has been destroyed.” She felt Rylen tense up in front of her. She gave a light squeeze with her hands, “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “Ten templars survived. We lost three of the nobles that accompanied us. Most of the servants of the nobles and those serving at Therinfal were murdered while we fought the Envy demon. The templars killed all the mounts to prevent our escape.”

Rylen looked over his shoulder at her, “Shadowmere…?”

“Yeah. Shadowmere went down fighting. Took out some of the corrupted templars with it.”

“I’m sorry, lass.” He gave one of her hands a squeeze.

She nodded. “Everyone is on high alert so I should get ahead of you to let the others know you’re here. No one needs an arrow to the face,” she said with a wink to Sera. She leaned back and pulled her leg through and slid down the side of the horse. “See you in a bit.” She headed back to the group swiftly, whistling between her sprint shouts to alert the other scouts that she was coming in safely.

“Good news Commander,” she said as she arrived. “Our escort has arrived a day early. Rylen has come with Sera, Bull, and the Chargers with extra mounts.”

“Thank the Maker!” Gwen smiled at the frustrated man as they paused to wait for the horses to arrive.


	16. Deep Breath Before

Carriages and new mounts were ready for the nobles when they arrived back in Haven. After the violence at Therinfal, everyone wanted to get them out of Haven before an attempt to close the Breach was made. Josephine was already up to her neck in damage control and they didn’t need another event to give the Orlesians a reason to pull their support from the Inquisition. Gwen, along with Max and the advisors saw them off as soon as they could.

“My dear lady,” Abernache approached Gwen and grasped her hand. “My most sincere thanks for saving my life. I am certain that without your efforts, none of us would be heading home today. If you are ever in need of anything, please do not hesitate to contact me. Adieu, ma belle dame.” He kissed her knuckles then turned and left without acknowledging Cullen or the others.

“Another conquest for you Gwen?” Max teased.

Gwen caught Cullen’s eye as she wiped her hand on her breeches, “not in the slightest Max. Simply a very easy mark.” Cullen snorted a laugh and headed up to the Chantry with the other advisors. “Max, before you go – are you okay? You seem a little off.”

Max sighed, “Redcliffe was… disturbing. The Tevinter magister, Gereon Alexius, that indentured the mages; he sent Dorian and I to the future. It was awful Gwen. Most of the Inquisition was destroyed, dead or missing. I found Cassandra, Varric, and Leliana imprisoned and infected with the red lyrium. Leliana had been tortured. She told me that you… that they couldn’t infect you with the red lyrium and they… they…” he shuddered.

“It’s okay Max. You don’t have to tell me. Honestly, I don’t think I want to know.”

“They died for me so I could get back. What about you – how are you doing? Cullen debriefed us on Therinfal. It sounds like you didn’t have any easier of a time than I did.”

“Having an Envy demon play around in your head is definitely not fun but finding everyone dead by those red bastards… They have to be stopped Max.”

Max pulled her into a hug, “we’ll stop them. We’re going to close the Breach tomorrow so rest up today. Will you join us at the tavern for dinner tonight? Bring your two elf friends – Nera and Lisa?”

“Nera and Liesel. I’ll invite them.”

* * *

Gwen dropped off her dragonscale armour with Harritt for repairs, did her own repairs on her blades, and then headed over to the pilgrim camp on the outside of the walls. She smiled and nodded greetings to people as she passed; the refugees and elves were familiar with her presence and no longer viewed her with suspicion.

“You’re back, shem,” Liesel commented as she sat outside the tent sharpening her daggers. “Got in trouble again we heard.”

Gwen laughed at the snarky elf. _Well maybe not everyone…_ “Yes. Trouble likes to follow me. Where is Nera?” Liesel thumbed over her shoulder toward the tent. “Thanks.” She knocked on the tent pole.

Nera popped her head out, “oh you’re back Gwen!” The elf clambered out of the tent and gave Gwen a hug. “Are you okay? We heard that there was trouble?” Liesel snickered.

“I’m fine. We ran into some problems with the templars – ” Liesel grimaced. “They had been tricked by a demon. We managed to save a few and they’ve come to help close the Breech.”

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” Nera said. “Oh, we made you something when you were away.” She ducked into the tent and re-emerged a few seconds later with a little bundle of cloth. She handed it to Gwen.

“What is it?”

“Open it,” Nera said nearly bouncing with excitement. Gwen unfolded the fabric and found a finely braided cord with a carved pendant attached. The pendant had beautifully scalloped edges with a rune etched in the center. “I carved the pendant. It’s druffalo bone and that’s a protection rune. Liesel made the cord for it.”

“It’s beautiful,” Gwen said running her thumb over the pendant and cord. She poured the pendant into Nera’s hand, “put it on for me.”

“Really? You like it?” she asked tying the leather cord at the back of Gwen’s neck as she held her hair out of the way.

“Of course. I’ve never had anything like it. Thank you. Thank you both.” Nera glowed with happiness, but Liesel looked faintly embarrassed and refused to acknowledge Gwen’s thanks. “I want to invite you both for dinner with me at the tavern. The Herald asked me to invite you both to join us.”

“He did?” Nera’s eyes grew round in surprise.

“Yes, by name.”

“Why would the shem want us to join you for dinner?” Liesel asked scornfully.

“Liesel, if the Herald asked us then we should go,” Nera said excitedly.

“You are both my friends. Max is my friend too and he wants to meet you. You don’t have to come, but I hope you will.”

“We’re coming! Aren’t we Liesel?” Gwen smirked as Liesel gave in. It was too mean to crush Nera’s enthusiasm, it would be like stepping on a pet nug.

Gwen escorted the two elves to the tavern. Nera hesitated at the door, “it’s okay. You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you.” Gwen took Nera’s hand and led her in with Liesel close behind. Max, Varric, Blackwall, Solas, and Sera were already there. Gwen sat down with Nera beside her and Liesel on the other side of Nera. She introduced everyone around the table. No sooner than she finished the introductions, Bull sat down beside her yanking her chair over next to him. “Bull… behave,” she warned him.

“Oh, you must be the mage that got the better of our Gwen,” Dorian said as he sat down next to Nera in the now open space. Nera looked a bit panicked. “I, for one, am quite impressed. Perhaps you’ll share your secret as I hear that you’re the only one to do so?”

“Don’t tease her Dorian.”

“I’m not teasing. I’m genuinely curious!”

“Another time,” Gwen told him, holding his gaze. He opened his mouth to say something but then thought better of it.

The group settled into their dinner and drinks. Varric as usual worked his magic spinning tales and got everyone laughing and relaxed with each other. Max, as well, was quite a good storyteller recounting some of the adventures for those that weren’t present for them. Nera was giggling at the stories; the mead probably helped as well. Gwen smiled watching the two elves, even Liesel was starting to be less abrasive.

Maryden played a variety of tunes, but then started playing one of her newer songs:

“Sera was never an agreeable girl—  
Her tongue tells tales of rebellion.  
But she was so fast, and quick with her bow.  
No one quite knew where she came from.”

“Shut it!” Sera yelled at her.

Gwen giggled and then joined in with Maryden:

“Sera was never quite the quietest girl—  
Her attacks are loud and they're joyful.  
But she knew the ways of nobler men.  
And she knew how to enrage them…”

“You too weirdy! Shut it!” Gwen kept singing the whole song with Maryden to the amusement of the group. “You wouldn’t like it if they sang a song about you,” Sera complained when the song was over.

“Right… ‘cus I know nothing about that,” Gwen said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. “Just ignore it Sera. Soon enough you won’t even notice it any more.”

Varric looked at her appraisingly, “you’ve been holding out on us. You can sing.” Gwen just shrugged and studied the bottom of her tankard. “There’s a song about you too, isn’t there?”

“Maybe,” she muttered.

“Well, now you have to sing it for us,” he cajoled her. The others started encouraging her as well.

“Fine.” Gwen got up and had a word with Maryden then sat down in front of the room with a borrowed lute and started to sing:

“Our Hero, our Hero, claims a warrior's heart  
I tell you, I tell you, the Dragonborn comes  
With a voice wielding power of the ancient Nord arts  
Believe, believe, the Dragonborn comes

It's an end to the evil of all Skyrim's foes  
Beware, beware, the Dragonborn comes  
For the darkness has passed, and the legend yet grows  
You'll know, you'll know, the Dragonborn's come”

Gwen let the power of the thu’um leak into the voice for the final verse and sang:

“Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin  
Naal ek zin los vahriin  
Wah dein vokul mahfaeraak ahst vaal  
Ahrk fin norok paal graan  
Fod nust hon zindro zaan  
Dovahkiin, fah hin kogaan mu draal”

There was silence for a moment and then everyone started applauding. Gwen spotted Rylen sitting with Cullen and Cassandra in the corner, and blushed when he raised his tankard to her.

“What does the last verse mean?” Varric asked, madly scribbling with his quill.

Gwen plucked a few notes on the lute and then sang the final verse again, but this time in Common:

“Dragonborn, Dragonborn  
By her honor is sworn  
To keep evil forever at bay  
And the fierce foe rout  
When they hear triumph's shout  
Dragonborn, for your blessing we pray”

“Play another song, lass!” Rylen called out smiling at her. Gwen rolled her eyes at him and thought for a moment, then started her song:

“Oh, there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red,  
Who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead

And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade,  
As he told of bold battles and gold he had made.

But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red,  
When he met the shield-maiden Matilda, who said;

‘Oh, you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead,  
Now I think it's high time that you lie down and bleed!’

And so then came clashing and slashing of steel,  
As the brave lass Matilda charged in, full of zeal.

And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no more -  
When his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!”

Gwen got up, sketched a curtsy to the cheering audience, and returned to her seat. Nera giggled, “that was brilliant Gwen!” She sat down again with her friends as they spent the evening telling stories and enjoying each other’s company before the big day to follow.

Gwen and Rylen walked the two elves back to their camp late in the evening. “Are you going to be at the temple tomorrow?” Nera asked Gwen.

“Yes. Not as a mage, but to guard in case any demons show up.”

Nera nodded, “but you’ll be safe?”

“I’ll do my best to stay out of trouble…” Both Liesel and Rylen coughed to cover their laughter; Gwen shot them a dirty look making Nera laugh. “I will have you all know that I _do_ try! At least now I have an amulet of protection,” she said looking at Nera fondly.

“Perhaps we should have considered carving one for luck,” Liesel said.

Gwen gasped. “Liesel, I didn’t know you cared!” she teased. Liesel glowered at her and stomped off only to stop a few feet away to wait for Nera.

“Be safe tomorrow,” the elf hugged Gwen before running to catch up.

“Liesel is not wrong, lass,” Rylen said quietly as they walked back to the village gates. “You always seem to find yourself at the heart of the shit when it goes sideways.”

Gwen shrugged, “better me than someone else. If I can protect those I care about or those that can’t get out of the shit themselves…”

He stopped her and moved them to the shadow of the gates. “I know, and that is admirable, but sometimes you scare me lass,” he said slowly pulling her in toward him. He wrapped his arms around her gently as if she was a wild creature that would spook if trapped. Gwen closed her eyes and listened to the strong, calm thump of his heart. “If I don’t get a chance to talk to you before we go up to the temple tomorrow to close the Breach – be careful. Please.” His voice rumbled under her ear.

Gwen pulled back a bit from him so she could look up at him. “I will but you better be careful too. I know you are going to be up there as well.”

Rylen slid his hands up her back and threaded his fingers into her hair holding her in place. Gwen licked her lips suddenly nervous. His eyes darted to the movement and he tipped his head, his warm breath ghosted over her lips. After a moment, he raised his head again and kissed her on her forehead. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said quietly then let her go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for the tavern songs:  
> The Dragonborn Comes: https://youtu.be/4z9TdDCWN7g  
> Ragnor the Red: https://youtu.be/0dj7EVJ_mtA


	17. The Plunge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made myself cry *ducks for cover*

Gwen sat in the snow, Rylen’s arms around her as she cried, her heart aching with the losses of the day. They closed the Breach and everyone had been celebrating the accomplishment; the mages and templars came together, putting aside their mistrust and fears and worked together to make it happen. Everyone should be celebrating. But instead, they searched the faces of those around them desperate to find their friends and family, those who made it out and those lost among the snow and darkness that devoured Haven.

They should have been celebrating.

* * *

Thirty of the most capable mages, the dozen or so templars that remained, as well as Max and his companions went to the Temple to close the Breach. Gwen accompanied them, not as a mage as her magic differed from those of the mages of Thedas, but to lend a hand in case demons came through the rift. With the combined efforts that had the templars suppressing the Breach and the mages pouring their magic into the mark that Max wielded in the palm of his hand, the Breach was closed with minor injuries and no loss of life. It was time to celebrate.

Gwen saw Nera and Liesel off as they returned to their camp after sharing a celebratory drink together. She headed up to the landing where she saw Max and Cassandra after making a detour to the tavern to grab another mug of ale for herself. She wondered what would become of this Inquisition now; what would she do with herself. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one with such thoughts this evening. “With the breach closed, that alliance will need new focus,” Cassandra said to Max, with a slight nod acknowledging Gwen’s arrival.

Bells started ringing. With a brief look of confusion at each other, they dropped their drinks and rushed to the gates to see what was going on.

“Cullen?” Cassandra asked.

“One watch guard reporting. It’s a massive force coming over the mountain.”

“Under what banner?” Josephine asked.

“None.” Everyone stood stunned as they stared at each other not quite grasping the situation. It was unreal.

There was a crash at the gate and a voice, “I can’t come in unless you open.” Gwen pulled open the gate before anyone could protest and a huge Venatori fell at her feet revealing a slight blonde man pulling bloody daggers from the soldier’s back. “I’m…”

“Cole!” Gwen said in surprise.

“You remembered! I came to warn you. To help. People are coming to hurt you,” he said pointing at Max. “You probably already know…”

“What is this? What is going on?” Max asked.

“The red templars went to the Elder One. You know him, he knows you. You took his mages… And they couldn’t take the Dragonborn. There,” Cole said pointing to a mountain peak. “He’s very angry you spoiled his plans.”

“Commander, give me a plan, anything!” Max demanded whirling around to address Cullen.

“Haven is no fortress. If we are to withstand this force we must control the battle. Get out there and hit that force with everything we’ve got. Mages! You have sanction to engage them. That is Samson,” he pointed to the general he recognized on the ridge above the lake. “He will not make it easy. Inquisition, with the Herald. For your lives, for all of us!”

It was a massive force. They drew their weapons to confront the enemy and Gwen heard a scream. She whipped her head around and realised that it came from the camp alongside the outer walls. All the elves, pilgrims, and refugees that stayed there were _outside_ the walls of Haven; they had no shelter from the oncoming forces. Gwen ran as fast as she could to the camp, “come on, you must get out now!” she called as she arrived. “Drop everything and run. Get to the Chantry!”

Nera and Liesel ran up recognising her voice. “Gwen, what’s going on?”

“Haven is under attack. Remember all that work we did in our sparring practices?” she looked at Nera holding her staff, and Liesel with her daggers. “You must help me to protect these people and get them to the Chantry.” The two elves nodded their heads vigorously. “Stay behind me. Nera don’t burn through your mana, keep shields up on you and Liesel. Liesel watch our flank, don’t engage the enemy unless you can’t help it.”

Gwen stood with Nera and Liesel, guarding the path behind the pilgrims, elves, and mages that had been living along the side of the village as they evacuated to the Chantry with the other villagers. They heard the heavy thud of a trebuchet firing as the rocks flew over their head sending avalanches of snow and timber into the oncoming soldiers. Another trebuchet fired scattering more soldiers as they herded the villagers through the gates. The three women ran up the stairs through the gates just as a huge dragon flew over belching corrupted lightning. Gwen tracked the dragon and when she thought it was in range shouted, _“_ _Joor Zah Frul_ ” to force the dragon to land. The dragon veered away and the shout had no effect.

“Ugh, that’s just messed up,” Bull growled as he, along with some of the others joined them briefly before heading along the right-hand path to make sure Flissa, Adan, and Minaeve had made it out of their respective buildings. She saw Harritt and his apprentices disappear into the Chantry ahead of her as they headed around the left side of the terrace. Suddenly she heard a cry behind her. Turning she saw Liesel fall as she slipped on some ice.

“Liesel!” Nera called out turning to come back and help her friend.

“No! Get to the Chantry Nera. You’re nearly there. I’ll get Liesel. We’re right behind you!” Gwen called running the few steps back to hoist Liesel up to her feet. They heard a squeal and the two women looked up just in time to see a red templar appear from the corner of the Chantry and stepped past Nera; a spray of blood followed his blade as the elf folded in half and she crumpled into the snow just steps in front of them.

“No!” Gwen screamed in horror. She shot in front of Liesel blocking the next swing from the templar and traded blows with it. “ _Faas Ru Maar_ ,” she shouted disarming him. She stepped forward crossing her blades below the edge of his helmet and with a quick pull, decapitated him. Rushing to Nera, she turned the elf over cradled her in her lap. Blood ran through Nera’s tunic, soaking into the snow below her and over Gwen’s legs. All of her healing ability wasn't sufficient to deal with this injury.

Nera’s eyes fluttered open. “Gwen, is Liesel okay?”

“Yes, she’s right here,” Gwen replied grabbing Liesel’s hand to pull her closer.

“Oh good.” Her eyes began to lose focus as they drifted between Liesel’s and Gwen’s faces. “I’m tired. Can I sleep now?”

“Yes, you can sweet girl,” Gwen said stroking Nera’s face. “I’m so proud of you. You got your friends to safety.”

“Liesel…” Nera turned her head towards her friend and then went limp in Gwen’s arms.

“Nera?” the elf woman sobbed. “Nera!”

Gwen gently closed Nera’s eyes and laid her down. She looked at the blood that coated her hands then brought a hand up and dragged it across her face as a cold ball of fury grew in her belly. “Get in the Chantry Liesel. There’s nothing more you can do here.” Liesel looked up from her friend as the tears continued to stream down her face, startled at the flat cold tone of Gwen's voice. Gwen’s eyes blazed like coals and the bloody mask smeared across her face in their friend’s blood shocked the elf. She scrambled up and away from Gwen, and ran to the Chantry doors that were just steps away.

Gwen pulled herself to her feet and with calm deliberation she drew her swords again and stepped to meet the next Venatori and red templars that came around the corner of the Chantry. She spun and lunged cutting through all the enemies that challenged her as she stood as the eye of a vortex of death. She lost track of time and space as her focus narrowed to her blades as they whirled around her slicing through all that came within range of their deadly arcs.

Max and the others ran up to find her standing over a ring of dead enemies. “Gwen…” Max called to her. When she didn’t respond, he stepped closer. “Gwen! We need to go.”

Gwen heard steps approaching her and she tensed up as she adjusted her grip on her swords ready to attack again. Bull noticed the slight movement and put his hand out to stop Max from getting closer. “Dragonborn, stand down,” he snapped out the command.

Slowly turning around to face the challenge, she looked at the men standing before her just out of reach. Recognition slowly crept into her mind as the fog of her rage started to dissipate. A shudder ran through Gwen as she lowered the swords. She looked down dispassionately surveying the ring of dead around her before she sheathed her swords and jumped over the bodies to follow the rest into the Chantry.

“Herald, our position is not good,” Cullen told jogging up to Max as they barred the door behind them, flicking a quick glance to Gwen’s stony, blood smeared face. “That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us. It’s cutting a path for the army, it will kill everyone in Haven.”

“The Elder One doesn’t care about the village, he just wants the Herald,” the spirit-boy Cole said as he helped the wounded Chantry cleric, Roderick, sit down.

“If it will save these people, then he can have me. I will go out there and surrender myself to him.”

“It won’t. Nothing else matters but he’ll kill them anyway. I don’t like him,” Cole replied wringing his hands.

“You don’t…” Cullen sighed. “There are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We can turn the remaining trebuchet and create one last slide.”

Max frowned as he contemplated Cullen’s suggestion, “we’re overrun. To hit the enemy, we’d bury Haven and ourselves.”

“We’re dying, but we can decide how. The only choice we have is how spitefully we end this.”

“Chancellor Roderick remembers a path. It’s a secret path that can lead the people to safety above the tree line. We can get the people out.” Cole stated, cocking his head sideways to listen to the cleric.

“What about it Commander, would it work?” Max asked hopeful that there was another option.

“Possibly. But what of your escape?” Max looks at him for a moment, before looking away. “Perhaps you will surprise it – find a way? The soldiers will load the trebuchet. Keep the Elder One’s attention until we are above the treeline. If we are to have a chance – if you are to have a chance – let that thing hear you.”

“I’m going with you,” Gwen said stepping up beside Max.

“No, I need you to stay with the villagers Gwen,” Max told her as he waved over Cassandra, Bull, Dorian, and Varric.

“What? That’s ridiculous! There is a _dragon_ out there. I am the Dragonborn, I can fight it.”

Max turned to her gently holding her shoulders, “Gwen. I need you to protect the people. Cassandra is going with me; she has experience fighting dragons. But if that thing gets past us or doesn’t take the bait, you will be the only thing standing between it and the people. I know you can kill it that’s why I need you to be the last line of defense.” Gwen looked at him and then slowly nodded her head. “Thank you,” he pulled her into a hug and then kissed her on her forehead. “Be safe.”

“You also. If you don’t come back, I will hunt you all the way to Sovngarde and kick your ass.”

Max laughed, “I don’t doubt it.” He turned and headed out the door with his chosen companions.

Gwen took one last look in his direction before she felt Cullen grab at her elbow tugging her along. She, Cullen, and the last of the Inquisition soldiers followed the refugees down and out the hidden tunnel onto the mountain behind the Chantry. Dust sifted down from the stone ceiling as the building shuddered under the onslaught of templars, Venatori, and the dragon. They hurried out of the tunnel and followed the trail left by the villagers as they followed the summer pilgrimage path that Chancellor Roderick had spoken of.

Emerging above the tree line, they joined Rylen, Josephine, and Leliana and watched as Max and the others guarded the final trebuchet as the soldiers loaded it. One by one, the soldiers fell as the others fought trying to guard them and prevent being overrun by the red templars. A huge monstrous templar emerged and pressed them hard. Massive shards of red lyrium jutted out of the templar’s back and shoulders, his entire right arm had become a huge weapon that he swung and smashed at Max’s group.

“Andraste preserve them, that’s Knight-Captain Denam,” Cullen said shocked at the transformation of the templar.

“Damn it, he survived,” Gwen swore. Bull and Cassandra hammered at the templar as Varric and Dorian provided cover while Max worked on the now abandoned trebuchet. Suddenly the red Knight-Captain faltered and fell, and they breathed a premature sigh of relief as the dragon reappeared over the ridge of the mountain and flew right over the area where Max and the others were fighting. They scattered but Max was cut off as the dragon landed between him and the companions. Everyone stared in horror; Max was on his own stuck between the dragon and a monstrous creature, the Elder One, that cut through the flames to reach him.

They couldn’t hear what was being said, but the Herald was doing what he promised keeping the dragon and whatever the Elder One was, occupied so everyone could escape. Bull, Cassandra, Dorian, and Varric arrived panting at their location as they saw that _thing_ fling Max aside as if he was a rag doll. Gwen jerked like she had been struck by lightning and took a step forward only to be jerked back by Rylen. “You have to let me go Rylen! I can help him,” she pleaded as she struggled. She spun herself around unexpectedly breaking his grip on her only to be grabbed and jerked back against Bull. “Let me go! I can help him!” she fought against the qunari.

“No, Gwen. No,” Bull said quietly as he pulled her back against him trapping her hands against her ribs and removing all leverage she had to break free.

Behind her, Cullen nodded to Leliana who fired a flaming arrow high into the sky. They held their breath, hoping beyond hope; the trebuchet fired. They watched as the snow and rock ripped down the mountainside pummelling everything in its path before sweeping over Haven. The dragon picked up its master and flew away avoiding the onslaught of snow, and Max vanished from sight as the avalanche hit the trebuchet’s location.

Gwen’s slid out of Bull’s grip as her knees buckled and she collapsed into the snow. She batted his hands away with a sob when he reached for her. Rylen stepped around and crouched down in front of her, “come on lass. We need to move from here.” He took her hands and gently pulled her to her feet and tucked her in against him with his arm around her to keep her moving.

Everyone that had managed to escape kept walking up the mountain trail until they had just about run out of daylight to see where they were going. Anyone that was capable quickly helped set up tents to shelter them from the cold wind that stirred in the trees. They heard no sounds indicating that enemy forces followed so they risked lighting a few small fires to melt snow for hot drinks and cleaning wounds. Rylen sat Gwen down near one of the fires with some of Max’s companions and went to fetch some water and a cloth. She jerked her face away when the cloth touched her skin. “Lass, I need to wash the blood off your face. The blood of those templars might be corrupted with the red lyrium; you don’t want to leave that on your skin.”

“It’s Nera’s,” Gwen whispered staring into the fire.

“The elf mage we met last night?” Varric asked softly. Rylen turned and nodded to him.

“Oh damn,” Bull said. “That explains the rage.”

Two tracks ran down Gwen’s face leaving streaks in the dried blood. “It’s my fault, I told her to go on. We were so close to the doors. I didn’t see the templar. I should have kept her behind me.” She squeezed her eyes tight as more tears ran down her face, “it’s my fault she’s dead.”

“What about Liesel?” Rylen asked quietly wiping away the tears and dried blood while Gwen was distracted.

“I don’t know. She got to the Chantry but I haven’t seen her since. I got her best friend killed Rylen.”

“Shhh lass. It’s not your fault.” Rylen sat down and pulled her into his arms until she cried herself out and slipped into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

After his turn at watch, Rylen returned to the small fire where Gwen still slept curled up in a cloak. “She hasn’t moved since she fell asleep before your watch,” Varric told him. Rylen nodded his thanks and slid down beside her to stay close when she did wake. He pulled his cloak around him and tried to stay awake, but the cold crept in along with his exhaustion and soon he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer.

Rylen woke with a start; Gwen wasn’t beside him. He sat up and looked around. “Morning Knight-Captain,” a gruff voice said beside him. Rylen nodded his head at Blackwall and accepted the hot mug of tea. “Gwen’s down the trail a little way,” the warden nodded towards the direction they came. “She said something about a clairvoyance spell to track Max. Dorian’s with her hoping he can learn the spell as well.” He headed down the trail with the hot cup of tea to see how Gwen was doing.

“But how does the spell work?” Rylen could here the Tevinter mage ask.

“You picture the thing or person you are seeking and then send the energy from yourself to create a path between you,” Gwen replied. She held her right hand out in front of her and a swirling, crackling ball of blue energy grew in her hand until she shoved it away. It dissipated in front of her feet. Rylen saw her shoulders drop.

“So what does that mean?” Dorian asked.

“Either there’s no clear path to him yet, or he’s…”

“Ah.”

Gwen gathered the energy for the spell again and released it with the same result. Rylen walked up and gently took her hands. “Your hands are freezing. Here have some tea and warm up.”

“This isn’t that cold. You should try being in Windhelm in the depths of winter. That place will make things snap off that shouldn’t.” Dorian cringed.

Rylen smiled, relieved that she could make a little joke. “We’re breaking camp in a little while. You both should come back now.”

“But we’re moving away from Max. Why are we leaving?”

“Gwen, you know why. We don’t have enough food and shelter here, and we can’t go back to Haven. We need to find somewhere to go. Max will find us,” Rylen answered her.

“The Knight-Captain is right, love. Come on,” Dorian said putting his arm around Gwen’s shoulders. “We can try again later.”

The survivors packed up their tents and meager supplies distributing packs among all the able-bodied people. Any injured that couldn’t walk were carried on stretchers or dragged on travois. Travelling was slow going and awkward with the deep snow that lay in drift between the trees along the path. Soldiers rotated taking their turn at breaking the path for those that followed. Bull, due to his size, was especially good at this but couldn’t sustain it indefinitely with his braced ankle. At mid-day, they stopped and lit a few small fires again to melt snow to drink and distributed dried meat rations to everyone. Healers and mages with healing skills made the rounds checking for injuries and signs of frostbite. Gwen walked to the back of the line with Dorian and cast her spell again. Again, it fizzled out within a few feet of her.

“Any luck?” Cassandra asked her after Dorian explained what Gwen was doing.

“No, nothing.”

“Don’t worry. The Herald is resourceful. He’ll find a way,” the woman said.

They headed back up the path and joined the rest of the group. Once again, everything was packed up and they walked for several hours. At late afternoon they crested a ridge and found a small sheltered area that was open enough to set up tents. Cullen called a halt and unpacking began to prepare themselves for the coming night. Watches were assigned, and Gwen volunteered to take one as well. Cullen glanced at her and nodded.

After a dinner of tea, a hard biscuit and piece of jerky, Gwen grabbed her bow and a cloak and headed back down the trail for her watch. She cast her spell and again, it fizzled out a few feet in front of her. She sighed and settled herself into a rocky outcrop for the duration of her watch. She scanned the forest as the first moon started to rise above the mountains. In the distance she could hear the howl of a wolf. A few seconds later, from the opposite side of the valley, another wolf answered the first. She made a note to herself of their locations in case they started coming closer, she might have to hunt them before they approached the camp.

An hour into her watch, Gwen stood up and wandered across the path to stretch her muscles. The cold made the muscles cramp if she sat still for too long. She gathered her magicka calling the clairvoyance spell to her hand and then casting it out along the path. The ball of energy shot down the path, over the ridge, and disappeared into the trees below her. She stood stunned for a moment before turning and shouting her whirlwind sprint to take her swiftly back to the camp. She rushed to the tent that had been set up for the Inquisition leaders and without pausing flipped open the tent flap and ducked her head inside. “Commander, Seeker – you need to come now. The spell worked.”

She hurried over to the campfire where Bull was sitting. “Bull, we’ll need you,” she said quietly not wanting to alarm or excite everyone in camp if she was wrong. But she was confident she was right. Max was alive. She led Cullen, Cassandra, and Bull back down the path. When she got to her watch post, she cast the spell again. Again, the ball of energy shot down the path and vanished into the trees. They headed in the direction indicated - back along their original path out of Haven - stopping occasionally for Gwen to cast again. After walking for about thirty minutes, they saw a green flicker partially obscured by the snow. Max was unconscious but alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I picture Gwen's fight in front of the Chantry doors, I kind of see this (wrong genre, but you get the idea): [River Tam fights the Reavers](https://youtu.be/nAzZoU9tOeY)


	18. Exodus

They kept Max asleep for three days while the healers and mages worked on his injuries. Besides minor frostbite, he had a broken wrist, a dislocated shoulder, broken ribs, and some internal injuries. It was fortunate that they found him when they did as he would not have survived another night out in the snow with the injuries he had. His companions took turns sitting with him as he recovered, but the de facto leaders were troubled and broke into loud arguments frequently. One such argument was happening when Max finally woke up, voices rose and fell from the command tent. Max shifted around on the cot, “they’ve been arguing for hours.”

“I know Max. They’ve been worried about many things but you’re alive and awake will be one less thing for them to worry about,” Gwen said quietly bringing a mug of water over to him. She helped him sit up when he attempted to struggle there himself and then sat beside him.

He drank the water then stared at his hand turning it over letting the mark glimmer for a few moments before saying quietly, “I don’t think I can do this Gwen. Corypheus is… he said I’m a mistake.”

“You _can_ do this, Max. You _have_ been doing it. You have friends that care about you and are there to help you; you don’t have to carry this burden yourself. You are not a mistake, no matter what that corrupted _thing_ said.”

Max sighed and nodded. He reached over and grabbed her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Thanks, Gwennie. Would you mind getting Cass for me?”

“Of course not,” she replied giving his hand a squeeze back before leaving the tent. Gwen knocked on the tent pole for the command tent and ducked in in the middle of their argument. It wasn’t like everyone couldn’t already hear them arguing so they could hardly complain that she was interrupting a private discussion. “Pardon for the interruption,” she said glancing around at the tent’s occupants, “but Max is awake. He’s asking for you Cassandra.”

“Thank you, Gwen. I’ll go to him now – if we’re done here?” she questioned the others. She left without waiting for a reply. Josephine and Leliana soon followed to go get some hot tea, leaving Gwen alone in the tent with Cullen. Gwen studied the map on the table between them.

“So where do we go now?” she asked softly.

Cullen sighed noisily and ran his hand through his hair, “I’m not sure. We haven’t come to a decision yet.”

Gwen snorted, “well the whole camp knows that much.” He looked up at her with chagrin. Gwen studied him; his jaw was clamped tight and the shadows under his eyes looked like bruises. “How’s the head, commander?”

“What? It’s fine.”

“Riiiiiight,” she drawled. “Try telling me that one again without cringing at the sound of your own voice.”

He straightened up but the tension of his knuckles on his sword hilt betrayed him, “it’s fine. I can endure it.”

“Sorry, not buying it. Look, no one is around so sit down and let me help; you don’t have to endure it alone. You’ll think more clearly if your head isn’t trying to jump off your shoulders.” He hesitated then gave her a brief nod then sat down on a stool. Gwen walked up before him and stood between his knees as he sat. Raising her hands to his head she paused and gave him a little cheeky smile, “do you need my dagger before I begin.”

He chuckled lightly before wincing, “no Gwen. I trust you. You may begin.”

Gwen gathered her magicka and started casting her healing spell on Cullen’s head. As she continued, his eyes drifted shut and she could feel the tips of fingers rest against her legs from where Cullen’s hands rested on his own legs; her hands hovered above his skin just beyond actually touching him as she moved her down his neck and across his shoulders pouring the last of her magicka into the spell. “There you go. Better?”

“Yes,” he said after examining how he felt as she took a step back. “Thank you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Rylen said as he ducked through the tent flap. He cast his gaze down at the ground even as he felt the muscle in his jaw jump.

“It’s all right Knight-Captain. We were finished here,” Cullen said stopping Rylen’s exit from the tent as Gwen turned to leave. “And Gwen – I’m sorry about your friend.” She nodded in acknowledgement unable to say anything over the sudden lump in her throat.

Rylen stepped aside to let her exit the tent and sketched a little bow to her. Gwen’s eyes flicked up to his catching his gaze. “Good day Rylen,” she said softly as she let her finger tips lightly stoke across the back of his hand where it hung at his side as she passed him.

Gwen grabbed her bow and quiver of arrows and headed into the treeline surrounding the camp to do some hunting. The scouts had done a good job shooting rams and nugs in the area to keep everyone fed, but with the number of people in the camp there wasn’t enough meat to sustain them for too much longer and the animals were simply getting scared away due to their presence. She pulled her cloak more tightly around her neck and pulled the hood forward to try to block the wind from whistling down the back of her neck as she moved through the trees.

She headed up higher above the camp away from the scout patrols to uncharted areas. The climb was quite steep but she had climbed the seven thousand steps to High Hrothgar and beyond that to the Throat of the World to see Paarthurnax so the climb didn’t really bother her that much. Bringing meat down might be a challenge but she would have to find some first. She heard an odd sound that made her pause and look back to the camp. It sounded like a person singing. She stopped and listened carefully; more voices gradually joined the single one until the majority of the camp occupants were singing. She could see Max standing by the healer’s tent, clutching one of the poles while Inquisition forces, both scouts and soldiers; pilgrims and refugees took a knee before him. Unbidden tears slipped down her cheeks freezing in the cold wind. She hoped that the people’s faith would help lift Max up rather than burden him.

* * *

With the Herald mobile again, the survivors started moving through the mountains again. Food was scarce, so they couldn’t afford to remain in one place for too long. They waited long enough as it was. Max led them north to some yet unknown destination, he could neither tell them where they were going or when they would get to where he was leading them. Gwen watched silently as he conferred frequently with Solas.

On the third day of travel, Gwen spotted Liesel sitting with some of the other survivors that had been camped outside of the walls. They made eye contact and Liesel was the first to look away; Gwen wasn’t surprised and knew that the elf would never forgive her for Nera’s death, but she was glad the prickly rogue had made it this far.

“She’ll come around, you know Rosy,” Varric said stepping up beside Gwen.

Gwen snorted. “I don’t know why she would. She never liked me before and now…” She ran her fingers over the pendant that hung around her neck.

“No one blames you for what happened. Including her. You need to forgive yourself,” he said kindly giving her a pat on the shoulder. Gwen nodded, not totally convinced. “Come on, let’s get some supper before Tiny eats it all.”

After dinner they sat around the fire quietly talking, and occasionally a laugh quickly hushed, or a mother singing a child to sleep would be heard across the impromptu camp. Gwen sat with Max and his group and listened to Varric regale them with stories about the Champion. She raised her head looking towards where the three brontos that they had managed to get out of Haven to carry their meager supplies were now shifting around restlessly. She slowly stood up pulling her swords from their scabbards. Bull looked at her sharply, “what is it?”

“Something is making the brontos restless. Listen,” she hissed at him stepping away from the campfire to let her eyesight adjust to the darkness around the camp. A short distance away at another fire, Cullen and Rylen noticed her movement and got up drawing their own weapons as well, and turned to look at the brontos where she had focussed her attention. Suddenly something _red_ burst out of the tree line with a horrid screech and landed on one of the brontos. The bronto bucked spooking the other two that pulled up their tethers that had been pounded into outcroppings of mountain stone. People screamed as the loose brontos careened through the camp pulling up tent pegs, scattering fires, and causing general chaos. The attacked bronto slammed against the rock and then stumbled flinging off it’s attacker which disappeared back into the trees.

“Maker’s hairy balls,” Blackwall swore as he came up alongside Gwen with his shield and axe drawn, “that was a red lion.”

Gwen studied the woods around them. “ _Laas Yah Nir_ ,” she whispered staring into the dark.

“How many?” he asked quietly.

“Two. One is flanking us,” she nodded her head to the right without taking her eyes off the trees in front of her. The warden spread out a bit towards the direction she indicated. The injured bronto struggled to get up in front of her. One of the bronto handlers went to approach the downed animal to put it out of its misery when she saw a movement in the trees. She put her arm out in front of the handler, “no, wait. The lion is right – ”

She slammed her shoulder into the man knocking him down and whipped her swords up in front of her as the lion exploded from the trees. She stepped forward bracing herself and shoved the swords at the huge cat as it leapt at her, then twisted to avoid the claws as she ducked and rolled away. One of her swords was yanked from her hand so she quickly pulled one of her daggers and spun to face the cat, but her strike was good. The cat was dead. She stared at the fallen lion; it was bigger than the sabre cats she had fought back home being about six hundred pounds and ten feet long from nose to tail. Its thick fur was deep reddish brown with dark grey stripes running through it making it very well camouflaged in the wooded terrain.

Across camp she heard screams and a crackle of lightning followed by Bull’s distinctive bellow. The other cat was down as well; stunned by Dorian’s magic and finished off by the qunari. She cast a healing on herself to take care of the scratches two of the lion’s four-inch-long claws had managed to score across her shoulder. Harritt pulled Gwen’s sword from the cat and cleaned it off before returning it to her, shaking his head as he walked away.

“What is the damage?” Gwen asked when she regrouped with the others.

“One of the bronto handlers will likely not survive the night unfortunately. There are some other minor injuries – sprains, cuts, and bruises, three destroyed tents, and a smashed cart. We’ll have to assess the rest when we have better light. The bronto was beyond saving; it’s being butchered for its meat. Harritt’s men are handling the cats,” Cullen summarised.

“Andraste’s tits, Rosy, how did you know they were there?”

“Dragons have very good hearing, Varric. Does anyone know if those things hunt in packs or the two are typical?”

“Someone find Minaeve and ask her,” Cassandra said.

A scout came hurrying back with the elven mage, Minaeve, who was their head researcher, and a human Tranquil that was introduced to them as Helisma. “Helisma is very knowledgeable about animals,” Minaeve told them.

“The red lions are very cunning and swift predators. They are not afraid of people, and will not hesitate to attack if they can find a vulnerable target,” the woman said in a monotone voice typical of the Tranquil.

“Yes, we know that. But do they hunt in packs? Can we expect more of them?” Cullen demanded.

“This appears to have been a mating pair. We are perhaps close to their den which may have young or juveniles, but there will not be any other full-grown adults,” she replied.

“Right. Double the watch in case there are juveniles which could still be dangerous. Move everyone closer to the center of the camp; no one is to wander off into the woods alone.”

After a tense but otherwise uneventful night, everyone was happy to get the supplies redistributed between the remaining two brontos and leave the area. The injured handler passed away during the night despite the best efforts of the healers, so a few mages cremated the body in keeping with Andrastian traditions before they moved on from their camp. By mid morning, excitement started to ripple through the ranks of people; a huge fortress had been spotted ahead of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that comments, kudos, and just plain reads my story! I love hearing from you so don't be shy if you have a comment :D
> 
> So I've purposely never given much for descriptions of Nera and Liesel - nothing to indicate as to whether they were Dalish or City elves - but what impression do you, dear readers, get as to their origin?
> 
> Red lions are actually a thing (http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Red_lion) - cool! :)


	19. New Beginnings

The fortress was, for the most part, sound. As the survivors started across the causeway to the main keep they looked down into the valley that lay hundreds of feet below and up to the towers that soared above them. Old banners, faded and torn, fluttered in the wind marking that the fortress was occupied at some point in the not-so-terribly-distant past. Gwen studied the fortress as it perched in the mountains and it reminded her of her first view of Solitude with the towers of Castle Dour rising above the massive stone walls that surrounded the city, and the Blue Palace sitting as the jewel of the city on the outcropping of stone. So too, this fortress rose from the stone that it sat upon with towers, curtain walls, and a great hall at the heart of it. There was an immediate sense of relief as everyone started to trickle in under the barbican and into the bailey of the fortress. The tall stone walls were comforting but there was a sense of _something_ else, something benevolent, present. There was so much space even considering all the areas that were blocked off by broken stonework and overgrowth of trees and plants, that they would have no trouble housing most of their essential operations within the walls and a large open valley sat at the bottom of the causeway to the fortress that could be used to house the army as it grew once again.

The soldiers immediately started setting up tents in precisely straight rows within the open spaces in response to orders issued by Cullen. The civilians were set furthest away from the gates, the infirmary in the most sheltered area, and the soldiers and templars closest to the gates. The mages were also close to the gates but on the opposite site of the soldiers away from the templars. There were still some tensions between the two groups which were put on hold during the flight from Haven, but everyone knew that old hostilities still cropped up between the two groups.

For a solid week after arriving, several teams lead by someone with experience with masonry started to inspect the fortress starting with the barracks and the great hall. Rylen, as the son of a stonemason, lead a team to inspect the several barracks wings, kitchens, and storage buildings. Gatsi, a dwarven stonemason that had left Orzammar to join the Inquisition, led a team through the great hall and then onto the towers that punctuated the outer walls. They made some wonderful discoveries including a large enclosed garden area that was unnaturally warm that would be useful for growing herbs for potions, poultices, and weaponry. There was also an underground bathing area that included pools heated by thermal vents from deep within the mountains. Once the rooms had been approved that there wasn’t any danger of collapse, the laborious task of hauling out debris; stone, timber, rotted furniture and fabrics, and the cleaning away of years of dust began.

Gwen found herself filling totes with debris to be handed off to someone else to empty and replace with an empty tote as she moved through the rooms surrounding the newly accessed garden area. She made a little note to herself to see about claiming one of the rooms above the garden in the outer wall where she’d have a view of the garden from her door but also the mountains to the west. She turned with the latest tote to hand over to the next person hauling the waste away to come face to face with Liesel. She gave the elf a tentative smile. Liesel ducked her head breaking any eye contact and quickly left the room with the filled tote. Gwen sighed. _Yup, she hates me._ She didn’t see Liesel return for any more totes for the rest of the day.

The courtyard was slowly starting to clear out. The injured were the first that were moved out of the bailey and into a barracks to get them out of the cold mountain air and mud, and into one place where the healers could more easily tend them. Soldiers and templars moved into their own barracks, mages into their own as well; the mages were thrilled that no only did they have their own spaces but that they weren’t being guarded constantly by templars. Max was true to his word that how mages were treated would be changed from how they had been treated in the Circles; in the Inquisition, they were allies, not lesser beings that couldn’t be trusted. The advisors moved out of the courtyard as well into strategic locations within the fortress; Cullen over the gatehouse to easy monitor the coming and going of the troops, Josephine to an elegant office off the main hall to host visiting dignitaries, and Leliana to the top of the rotunda in the rookery with her ravens carrying missives to and from the scouts scattered all over the country. Max had been allocated the suite at the top of the tower off the Great Hall; it was only fitting now that he had been named Inquisitor.

Gwen was surprised when Max showed her to her new quarters. She didn’t get the room off the gardens, but a corner room located at a lower level of his own tower that had views of the garden and the mountains as she had wanted. She was delighted with the lovely big bed covered in blankets and curtained to keep out draughts. She was surprised to see a large red and grey-striped pelt spread across the wood floor before the fireplace and realised that it was the red lion she had killed. There were three additional rooms off her own room; a wardrobe which she scoffed at – even at her height of fame in Skyrim – she never had that much for clothing to need such a space. Perhaps she could fill it with armor stands. There was a separate bathing room, so she wouldn’t need to use the communal bathing pools that they had located. The last room which also had a separate entrance appeared to be set aside for a personal servant like a lady’s maid. _As if, I need one of those,_ she laughed to herself.

* * *

Rylen walked into the newly opened tavern. He stood in the doorway letting his eyes adjust to the dim light for a moment as he glanced around the room. Max and his companions occupied a large corner of the room behind the staircase beyond the massive fireplace where Maryden sat tuning her lute. Along one wall spanned a gleaming counter which was being manned by a gruff dwarf. Gwen leaned on the counter chatting with the dwarf. She laughed tossing her braid back off her shoulder, making Rylen smile fondly. It was good to hear her laugh again; he realised that he had missed the sound of it. He caught his breath as he saw her stretch out leaning over the counter to peek over the other side. He was just about to walk to the bar when Cullen joined her at the counter. He couldn’t overhear what was being said but the two of them tipped their heads towards each other as they spoke. Gwen looked up at Cullen and then nodded her head. Cullen turned and left, greeting Rylen on his way out. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the counter where Gwen still stood. “Fancy seeing a lass like you in a place like this,” he teased her. Gwen turned to him and smiled. “May I join you?”

Gwen’s smile dropped. “I’m sorry Rylen, I was just about to leave. I have – there is somewhere else I need to be.” She reached out and touched his arm, “but I could join you later?”

Rylen choked down his jealousy and pulled his arm out from under her hand. “Don’t worry about it Gwen,” he said then left the tavern.

* * *

Gwen leaned on the counter to order a drink from the dwarf, Cabot. He was such a dour person it was amazing to her that he was fulfilling such a social role as bartender. She tried to coax him to chat by asking about the rumours around Skyhold.

“Seven people want the minstrel dead. They'd settle for smashing her lute, but they're afraid she'd sing about it. Or that you will.”

Gwen laughed and flipped her braid over her shoulder. “Perhaps after I’ve had a few drinks, that is if you have anything worth drinking back there?” she asked leaning over the edge of the counter slightly to peak at what he had hidden behind it.

“Gwen, if you have a moment?” Cullen said stepping up to her and spoke quietly to her before leaving. He had a terrible headache and hoped that she would come to his office to treat it.

“Well Cabot, I guess I’ll have to take a miss on whatever swill you’re serving from back there,” she joked.

“Fancy seeing a lass like you in a place like this,” Rylen teased her as he stepped up next to her. Gwen turned to him and smiled as she looked up at him. “May I join you?”

Gwen’s smile dropped with disappointment. “I’m sorry Rylen, I was just about to leave. I have – there is somewhere else I need to be.” She reached out and touched his arm, “but I could join you later?”

She watched as his face closed off and he pulled his arm out from under her hand. “Don’t worry about it Gwen,” he said then left the tavern. Her shoulders drooped, never had Rylen been so cold with her. She shrugged it off, now wasn’t the time to go chasing after the man, Cullen had asked her to come to his office and she didn’t want to keep him waiting longer than necessary.

Returning to the tavern after seeing Cullen, she grabbed a drink from Cabot and settled down with Max and the others. Varric had a game of Wicked Grace going and she watched to learn how to play the game. The whole point of the game seemed to be how to cheat without the other players noticing. She smothered a smile when she caught Varric dealing from the bottom of the deck and he just winked at her. “Max,” she said as they were handing coins over for the next round, “I’ve been thinking about that dragon of Corypheus’… When it flew over at Haven, I tried to bring it down but I’m not sure why I didn’t have any effect on it. There are three possibilities that I can see; one,” she held up her first finger, “I wasn’t close enough for my shout to have any affect.” She held up a second finger, “two, Corypheus’ control negated my own attempt to control it, and finally three, my abilities have no effect on _any_ dragon in Thedas.” She sat there with her three fingers held up. “I need to go on a dragon hunt.”

Bull thumped down his tankard, “yes! What do ya say boss? A dragon will be fun!”

“Well,” Max drawled, “we did just have a report come in from the scouts in the Hinterlands that a high dragon has been spotted flying along the lake shore to the south east of Redcliffe and disappearing in-land. The scouts think it might be nesting somewhere to the northeast of the Crossroads.”

“Excellent! When do we leave?” Bull eagerly asked, ready to go immediately.

“We were discussing that we need to keep an eye on it in case it encroaches on the villagers or Redcliffe, but since there is a strategic reason for going sooner than later… I’m sure I can sell it to Cullen. And if it makes nice with Arl Teagan after the debacle with the mages, Josephine will be all for that as well.”

Gwen smiled at him; Max was learning to play the game. “So who’s up for some fun?”

“Count me in,” Bull thumped his fist on the table.

“Aye, you can count me in too,” Blackwall said.

“Watch Rosy take down a dragon? I have to be there to record it for posterity,” Varric added.

“Hmm, yes. Posterity. Either that or write my obituary. ‘She came. She saw. She got crispy’,” Gwen joked. They all turned to her stunned and silent. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” They were still quiet. “Oh, come on! It’ll be fine, I’m not worried at all so lighten up! Even if my dragonborn abilities don’t work, I still know how to kill a dragon without getting myself killed in the process.”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll present it tomorrow,” Max said.

Two days later they were armed and mounted up to head of to the Hinterlands and look for the dragon. Cassandra, with her experience with dragons, accompanied them as did Dorian and Solas to provide magical backup. Vivienne said that she had no interest and wanted to stay in Skyhold. The advisors came down to see them off. Gwen waited as long as possible to mount up because Rylen always came to see her off she went out on a mission before but finally she couldn’t delay any further. She pulled herself into the saddle and turned the horse towards the gate, she spotted Rylen as she did so. He stood at the far side of the training grounds facing her direction; she took her hand off the reins to wave to him, but he turned away and she let her hand drop. She pressed her heels against the horse’s side sharply and clattered over the causeway making the others hurry up to join her.

Varric sidled his pony up beside her horse, “so – trouble in paradise?”

“What?” Gwen looked at the dwarf, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Everything’s fine.”

“Right,” he drawled. “How come the good knight-captain didn’t come to see you off?”

Gwen flushed. “I don’t know,” she stammered. “Too busy now, I guess.”

“If you ask me, all men are arse-biscuits!” Sera shouted from her mount behind them eliciting protests from the men in the group.

When they arrived at the Crossroads main camp late on the second day, the scouts directed them to carry on up to the newest Inquisition camp in the Dusklight valley. “I’m going to scout the valley to see what we’re up against,” Gwen said after they had handed their horses off to the scouts and dropped their equipment into their respective tents.

“All right, but no running off to fight that thing on your own Gwen,” Max replied.

“I’ll go with her to make sure she doesn’t,” Bull offered.

Max snorted, “puhlease, you’d push her off the edge just to have an excuse to follow.”

Gwen laughed at them both. “I promise I won’t go after it right now. I’d rather not fight a dragon in unknown territory in the dark.” She cocked her head to the side in thought, “done it, but would rather not.”

She and Bull made their way down through the winding path to the valley before them. The area was scarred with pits, shattered trees, and smoldering fires. Beyond the valley, there was an opening within the cliff walls that Gwen could get a glimpse of the lake.

“Looks like dragon territory. Oh, this is gonna be good,” Bull commented with glee.

“That is does. There are young below,” she said pointing to some dragonlings that were clustered around the smoldering fires to stay warm as the sun went down and it cooled off. “The high dragon will most likely be nesting in that valley beyond – somewhere high up. We’re probably not going to make it through the valley without getting them riled up which will bring the dragon down on us.” Bull grunted in understanding. “There are overhangs of rock that will provide shelter from the dragon’s assault, there,” Gwen pointed to the west, and then to the northwest, “and there. Let’s head back.”

“How does it look, Rosy?” Varric said.

“Looks like a party, Storyteller. Might want to dig out your flame-proof smalls for tomorrow though, and maybe something for the chest hair. Wouldn’t want you to go ‘whoosh’.” Everyone laughed. “But seriously, everyone should have fire resistance tonics. Once the dragon comes for us, I want everyone to retreat to the rock shelters. I need to engage it by myself to test my abilities.”

“How will we know if they’re working or not?” Max asked seriously.

Gwen shrugged, “well, if I die then we know they don’t work.”

“That’s not funny Gwennie.”

“Don’t worry Max. I can fight a dragon without my dragonborn abilities. If I think I’m in trouble, I will call you guys in.”

Max nodded, “good because I don’t plan on going on with this fight without you.”

In the morning, Gwen twisted her hair back into braids and bound them up with a leather tie to keep it out of her way. She donned her armour, wishing briefly that she had her dragonscale, which was lost under the snow in Haven. She tucked in her daggers and put her swords in their scabbards making sure that the sword enchanted with ice magic, Blársvell, was ready at her right hand. Finally slinging her bow and quiver of arrows over her shoulder, she ducked out of the tent to greet the others. Max and Cassandra were handing out healing potions and fire resistance tonics to everyone, and lyrium potions to the mages. Gwen accepted a couple of healing potions but waived off the others. “Are we ready?” she asked. They all replied, with various levels of determination or nerves, that they were.

They made their way down the path to the valley and emerged in the morning light. The dragonlings were still restful around their fire pits permitting the group to move into position to take them out quickly. Dragonlings further into the valley screeched out a cry of alarm and came charging into the fight to defend their territory. A huge roar rumbled across the valley as the high dragon responded to her offsprings’ cries.

“She's taking off!” Bull yelled as rocks and debris tumbled down from a stony pillar as the dragon’s tail whipped across the top of it.

The dragon wheeled over the valley and spat a couple of fireballs in their direction. “Go! Everyone under cover!” Gwen yelled at them before turning to face the dragon with her bow drawn. “ _Zu’u los Dovahkiin! Hi fen qiilaan wa zu’u_!” she shouted at the dragon.

 _“Ful, losei Dovahkiin? Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi_ ,” the Fereldan Frostback replied. It wheeled around in the air to shoot another fireball at Gwen. _“Zu’u dreh ni koraav hin sulehyk.”_

 _“Ruz hi fen oblaan.”_ She turned following the flight of the dragon and then shouted, “ _Fo Krah Diin_!” She dove out of the way of the fireball and tracked the dragon watching as its wings stiffened from the frost breath shout she had hit it with. She pumped her fist in the air and laughed as she pulled her swords and raced towards where the dragon was tumbling to the ground. The dragon reared up and belched a gout of fire at Gwen as she raced towards it; she didn’t hesitate and ran through the fire and slashed at the underside of the dragon as she ducked under its jaws. The dragon screamed as ice crept into the slash wound made by Blársvell. The Frostback whipped its head around trying to spot Gwen as it raised its foot to kick at her, but Gwen ducked past the other front leg slashing at it as she got clear of the dragon.

The dragon took to the air and flew towards the second valley that Gwen had pointed out to Bull the previous evening as the possible nesting area. “Come on everyone! We’re following!” she called as she raced towards the break in the valley walls. “Barriers!” she yelled out a warning to the others as she jumped down over some stones into the valley and the dragon ambushed her with a fireball. Gwen shrugged it off and whirlwind sprinted further into the valley to draw the dragon’s attention from the others following behind. _“_ _Fo Krah Diin!_ ”she shouted again burdening the dragon’s wings with frost making it land again. She slashed at the dragon’s legs and belly with her swords enraging the creature as it hopped around; snapping and swishing its tail in an attempt to get a hit on her.

The dragon lifted to the air again. Gwen noticed a higher rocky outcropping and knew that was the dragon’s nest and it would try to retreat to it. “It’s nearly done,” she called out to the others. “It’ll head for the nest,” she pointed to the ridge.

The dragon wheeled around the valley spitting fireballs at them while trying to stay out of Gwen’s range. She muttered an incantation and rendered herself invisible for a few moments while she ran up to the nesting area. As the dragon flew towards her, unseeing, she shouted, “ _Joor Zah Frul_!” The dragon’s wings stuttered in mid-flight and the dragon crashed to the nest area sending up a cloud of dust and debris as it slid across the stony ground. Gwen invoked the dragon aspect to provide her with additional protection and strength, then ran full tilt at the dragon neatly dodging the dragon’s snapping jaws and leapt upon its neck. She slashed her swords down repeatedly chipping away at the heavy scales behind the dragon’s head as it thrashed around below her. Finally, with two scales broken enough to see the flesh below, she drove Blársvell in behind the skull. The dragon reared up with an ear-shattering scream. Gwen held onto the sword keeping herself in place as the dragon fell; a slow shudder ran through the dragon until finally it was dead. She jumped off the head, then stumbled exhausted and resting on her swords panting to catch her breath.

“That was bad ass!” she heard Bull growl from behind her as he admired the glowing, chiming ethereal armour that surrounded her.

She spun on her feet, her eyes glowing with dragon fire, and pointing her blades at Bull stopping him in his tracks. “ _This one is mine Qunari. Get your own_ ,” she growled in Qunlat. His eye opened wide in surprise.

The dragon’s carcass started to flicker until ethereal flames burst out of it as the energy of the dragon’s soul was released from the Frostback. She turned back to the dragon, sheathed her swords, and then opened her arms as the energy expanded as it swirled around the dragon to encompass her. She felt herself being lifted off her feet as the ribbons of soul raced around her form, the echo of the dragon’s heart beat thrummed through her bones, before the soul contracted and drove into her chest. She threw back her head and screamed as it pressed into and spread within her. Her feet landed on the stone again and she took a knee as she shuddered trying to adjust to the new soul bound within her.

“Are you alright, Gwen?” Max asked softly from behind her.

“Oh… yeah,” she replied breathlessly. She heard a couple of chuckles from the others but paid them no mind as she concentrated on pulling herself together. She left the others to loot the dragon as she wandered around the nesting area. A familiar pulsing chant drew her to a high wall of the nesting area and she stood staring up at the top, tipping her head to the side to listen closely.

Solas walked over to her and studied her for a moment. “What is it you hear, da'isenatha?”

“Knowledge. Power – can you feel it?”

Solas frowned for a moment then his eyes widened, “yes. What is that?”

She paced along the wall looking for a way up and when she couldn’t find one she yelled, “hey Bull! I need a lift. Give me a hand, would you?”

Bull loped over to where she stood before the wall; he bent his knees and laced his fingers together for her to put her foot then boosted her up. He inhaled noisily as he lifted her revelling in the scent of dragon that rolled off Gwen. He rumbled, “mmm, are you as turned on as I am?”

“Am I what?” Cassandra asked coming to stand beside him.

“Uh, never mind. That's probably impossible anyway.”

After a few moments, Gwen poked her head over the side of the ledge. “You guys should come up and see this.” She disappeared from the edge and waited for everyone to come up. “Take a look, the dragon has been stashing its hoard back here,” she said leading them down a short incline. The thrum of power was getting louder as she moved deeper into the ledge. Solas and Dorian, who also had notice the pulse of power, followed her as she approached the back wall. The wall was black and gleamed in the sunlight. Strange markings were gouged into the stone in patterns too regular to be random.

“What is that?” Dorian asked.

“It’s a word wall. It’s written in the dragon language,” Gwen replied approaching it. The thrum of power became louder and she could hear the dragon chant as she got closer.

Max grabbed her elbow, “stop! What is that?”

She peeled his fingers off her arm, “it’s alright Max. I know this.” She walked up to the wall and placed her hand on it. She froze as the power flared around her; her eyes glowed and she said in the dragon tongue, “ _Vokrii_ _.”_ The power subsided, and she let her hand fall from the stone.

“What just happened?” Max asked.

“I learned a new Word of Power. A dragon shout,” she replied.

“This is how you learn them? By touching a wall written in dragon?”

“For the most part, yes. The Greybeards, monks who study the Voice, taught me a few. A few dragons taught me some as well.”

“So what does ‘forky’ mean?”

“Vokrii,” Gwen corrected him. She frowned for a moment, thinking. “It means ‘restore’, but it’s strange. It’s unlike any word I’ve encountered before.”

“How so?” Solas asked.

“All that I’ve learned previously are single syllables. This one is two. All shouts are comprised of three words, three syllables total.”

“Could you be interpreting the word incorrectly? Could this be two words?”

“No, the word is clear. This is a very powerful word of itself.”

“You said it means restore. What does it restore?” Dorian asked.

“I’m not sure. I’ll need to meditate on it,” Gwen replied with a shrug.

“We should return to camp as there is nothing more to be done here. We should send word to Skyhold that the hunt was successful and have people sent to retrieve the dragon and treasure we have found here,” Cassandra said.

Gwen shook herself and then looked at the group, “uh, is everyone alright after that?”

Blackwall snorted, “I’m fine, but that first blast took a few hairs off my head.”

“Never better! See the way everything lit up when it tried to fry us?” Bull laughed clapping her on the back making her stumble, “now that was a fight! Anytime you want to do that again, I’m game.” Gwen smirked at him.

Max slung his arm around Gwen’s waist picking her up to swing her around, “that was pretty incredible Gwennie. You were amazing.”

Gwen laughed and shoved at him, “alright, alright! You made your point; you’re bigger than the Dragonborn. Now put me down.” They jostled and joked as they headed back to the camp to get cleaned up and make arrangements to return to Skyhold. For the first time in a few weeks, they had something to celebrate; they may have a weapon to deal with Corypheus’ dragon.

* * *

The elf slipped out of the trees and hurried over to the drop location at the edge of the abandoned camp. Flipping over the rock, he pulled out the folded piece of waxed fabric and unfolded it to reveal a note written in Qunlat.

_Rumours are true. Dragonborn can control dragons. Voice is source of ability. Dragonborn is Bas Saarebas. Very dangerous, use caution._

The elf refolding the note and tucked it inside his armour for safekeeping. This had to get to the Viddasala immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations  
> (Dragon)  
> Zu’u los Dovahkiin! Hi fen qiilaan wa zu’u! - I am Dragonborn. You will submit to me.  
> Ful, losei Dovahkiin? Zu'u koraav nid nol dov do hi. Zu’u dreh ni koraav hin sulehyk. - So, you're the Dragonborn? I see nothing of the dragon about you. I do not recognize your power.  
> Ruz hi fen oblaan. - Then you will die.  
> (Elven)  
> da'isenatha - little dragon


	20. He Loves Me, She Loves Me Not?

After hunting the dragon and returning to Skyhold, live settled into a normal routine. Gwen sat in the shadow of the wall and looked over the cleared space made in the bailey. It was a good spot to sit and relax; it was protected from the wind, provided shadows that she could sit unobserved, and it had a very, very good view. She pulled her dark cloak around her and tucked in her legs sinking further into the shadows when she heard footsteps tapped on the stones to her left. With any luck, the guard will pass right by her without a single glance.

“Ah, this is where you get yourself to in the mornings. A little chilly, mind you, but a pleasant view I will admit,” the Tevinter mage commented. “But you should really move out into the sunshine, it’s much warmer and so much better to be seen.”

“No, I’m good right here.”

Dorian glanced out at the field where the soldiers were sparring and back at Gwen where she was hidden, “ah, I see.” He settled down beside her. “So who are we watching today? It wouldn’t be that dashing Knight-Captain with the toe-curling accent, would it?”

“What? No!” Gwen spluttered feeling her face get hot.

“My dear girl, your face says otherwise. What I can’t fathom is why you haven’t done anything about it. There’s certainly interest from his side.” Gwen frowned as she looked at Rylen down on the field shouting orders to the recruits and then back again at Dorian. “You don’t see it.”

“I… He’s confusing. I don’t know what to make of him.”

“Men are pretty straightforward, love,” Dorian said drily. “They’re hardly going to be complex when it comes to you.”

“Yes, and I would agree with you. In my experience, I can pretty much place men into one of three groups; the first is looking for bragging rights – having bedded the Dragonborn and survived – most men fall into that group.” Dorian snickered at her evaluation. “The second is looking for control – Bull falls into that group although I think he’s more interested in the _dragons_ – I would be a pleasant bonus.” Again, Dorian snorted. She wasn’t wrong. “The third group is looking for leverage. What can they get by having the Dragonborn at their side – Ulfric, the High King, fell into that group.”

“You seem to have men all worked out.”

“I needed to quickly as I came into my power. Fortunately, it’s served me well and I have managed to dodge them all.”

Dorian nodded his head thoughtfully and then his eyes widened as he realised the implication. Biting back the question he did want to ask, he asked instead, “so which group does the Knight-Captain fit in?”

She frowned again and then answered softly, “I don’t know. I thought things were going well but then he went cold.”

Dorian opened the bottle of wine he had brought with him and poured some into the cup he carried before handing it Gwen. They sat quietly for a while drinking the wine and watching the men spar. “Where you are from; how would someone go about indicating that they were interested in another?” he asked casually, trying a different tactic.

“Casual physical relationships are completely normal and expected. You pair off as you like and go on your way afterwards,” she said with a flip of her hand. Dorian smiled at her gesture.

“Expected, unless you’re the Dragonborn,” Dorian stated. “But what if someone was looking for a more meaningful relationship. You know, with feelings.”

“Life can be short in Skyrim so we don’t have long courtships typically. When someone is ready to commit to another, they would get an Amulet of Mara to declare their intentions; that they were looking for a more permanent bond. If both parties were interested in each other, they’d go to the Temple of Mara and the priest would perform the ceremony to complete their bond.”

“It’s either casual sex or marriage? No longer daliances,” Dorian mused.

“I don’t know. Maybe the nobles did it differently, but for the common people that’s pretty much how it went.” She shrugged. “I was always so busy running from one end of the country to the other chasing dragons, completing jobs, and fighting Ulfric’s war, there was no time for any of that, but for others, there was always an amulet involved if there was anything more than simply a physical relationship.”

Their conversation dropped into a lull again. The morning was heating up and the men were starting to strip of some armour and shirts as they continued their sparring sessions.

“What do these Amulets of Amara look like?”

“Mara. Amulets of Mara. They’re round, usually have a semi-precious or precious stone at the center surrounded by some filigreed metal, then some beads and filigreed rondels on a chain.” A loud shout drew both of their gazes as the Iron Bull started putting his Chargers through their paces. Gwen glanced at the mage and followed his gaze back to the field. “What about you, Dorian. See anything you like?”

“What? Down there? No, nothing. Perhaps the Commander,” he flipped his hand much like she had dismissing the question.

“Really? Because that’s not where your gaze keeps sliding to.”

“What? You mean Iron Bull?” Gwen smiled as the mage unwittingly admitted his attraction as he tried to dismiss it. “I am from Tevinter, love. He is Qunari. Our countries are at war with each other. It just isn’t done.”

“Uh huh. Just like the Grey-Manes and Battleborns. Warring households for generations but underneath a whole bunch of forbidden lust a mile wide.” She handed the wine cup back to him as she got up to leave, “you keep telling yourself that.”

* * *

Rylen walked into the Great Hall on his way to the war room to deliver a report to Cullen, as his eyes adjusted to the light of the hall he saw Gwen slip through the door from Josephine’s office and head down to the undercroft. He paused for a moment then headed to the war room beyond Josephine’s empty office. Cullen stood studying the map as he fidgeted with the collar of his shirt. “Ah, there you are Rylen. What is the status of the newest recruits?”

“They’re greener than the grass but show promise. They should be able to hold their own in the few weeks,” he replied glancing back at the door.

“Rylen, did you hear me?”

“What? Pardon Commander!” he said whipping his head back around to pay attention to Cullen realising that he must have missed a question.

Cullen snorted, “I said, she’s treating my headaches.”

“Who is – ”

“Gwen. I suffer from headaches and she’s – she’s been treating them since Therinfal.”

“I didn’t know.”

“It’s not something that I want to have made known. The healing potions, even if we had an abundance of them, don’t work on the headaches and after… After Kinloch, I have difficulties accepting healing from mages.” Rylen nodded, he had heard of what happened when Kinloch fell. While he might not know the specifics of what his friend standing before him experienced, it was widely known among the templars that the fall of that Circle was one of the worst in history. “She offered the healing because she knew that I can’t feel her magic…” Cullen snorted, “after everything at Therinfal, do you know that she thrust one of her daggers into my hand and made me hold it to her throat while she healed me. She said it was ‘a precaution for my peace of mind’.”

Rylen chuckled fondly, “aye, that sounds about right. She’s a stubborn wee lass.”

Cullen rubbed his hand across the back of his neck suddenly awkwardly, “any way, I just wanted to let you know that there was nothing going on between her and I. Uh, romantically, I mean.”

Rylen looked at him startled for a moment but then sketched a salute, “aye. Thank you, Commander.”

Cullen scowled at him, “knock it off Rylen. We’ve been friends for too long for that. You’re dismissed.”

“Knight-Captain!” Varric called out to Rylen as he exited Josephine’s office and waved him over to his table by the fire. “You just missed Gwen, she went to the undercroft.”

“Yes, I saw her. She’s working on some new armour after losing her dragonscale in Haven.”

Varric indicated for Rylen to take a seat, “so tell me, one Free Marcher to another, what’s going on with you two?”

He sat and exhaled noisily. “Nothing.”

Varric raised a brow at the other man, “it doesn’t look like nothing.”

Rylen ran his hand through his hair in frustration looking at the door Gwen disappeared through. “It’s not that I haven’t taken women for a tumble before, but with her... As a templar, sworn to the Order, _more_ was never a consideration. My family was not well-enough off to get special dispensation for a more serious commitment, so I never considered it. But now…”

“But now the Order has been destroyed and you are no longer bound by those vows; the future looks different and you want more,” Varric said softly.

“Yes. But I don’t even know if that’s something the lass is interested in. Or me.”

The dwarf chuckled, “have you ever noticed that she doesn’t touch anyone except you?”

Rylen frowned thinking about the interactions with Gwen that he had seen. “People touch her all the time.”

“Yes, people touch _her_ , but she doesn’t initiate that contact with them. Except with _you_.” Rylen reconsidered the interactions again, his eyes widening as he realised that Varric was correct. “I heard from a little bird that her people have an amulet that they use when they want to start a more serious relationship,” Varric said casually sliding a piece of parchment with the sketch Dorian had made over to Rylen. “Perhaps it would be a way to open the door to the conversation. Of course, if you aren’t serious I would recommend walking away as there are enough people around that would claim vengeance if she was toyed with and hurt.”

“I would never hurt her.” Rylen picked up the parchment to study to study the design.

“Just so,” Varric nodded. “Have a good day Knight-Captain.”

* * *

Gwen dressed for the day in a soft tunic and vest over some buttery soft breeches that she found in her wardrobe. It amused her how clothing kept appearing in her wardrobe without any input from her. There were no plans for her to go out into the field for next day or two so she didn’t need or feel like wearing the armour. Grabbing her bow, a session of target practice would be a good way to pass the time and clear her mind as she continued to meditate on the new word she found at the wall in the dragon nesting site in the Hinterlands.

She drew back the bow string and steadied her breath then let the arrow fly neatly splitting the arrow already embedded in the archery butt. “Nicely done, lass.”

She clamped down on her surprise and slowly turned around to address the templar. “Good day to you, Knight-Captain,” she said stiffly.

Rylen grimaced slightly at her reaction although it was well deserved. He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Would you take a walk with me?” he asked her. Gwen nodded, not trusting herself to say anything. Rylen led her from the training field and then directed her to go up the stairs to the ramparts behind the tavern. Gwen continued to walk just a head of him as he fumbled with the collar of his tunic. “I want to apologize – I’ve been a gigantic arse as of late.” Gwen snorted but didn’t turn around. “Gwen…” he reached out and gently placed his hand on her shoulder to turn her to face him. “Lass…”

Gwen turned at his insistence and her eyes widened as she spotted an amulet resting on his chest. “Is that… is that an Amulet of Mara?” she asked.

“Yes, it is. It is what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh,” Gwen said softly. She took a step back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize that you were interested in someone.” She felt tears prick her eyes and blinked rapidly to force them back. “I will… I don’t want to interfere.” She looked down at the ground and took another step away from him.

Rylen took two quick steps towards her closing the distance. He reached out and stroked his hands down her shoulders and held her arms before she could bolt. With a hand under her chin, he tipped her head so he could look her in the eyes which were glassy with unshed tears. “Lass, I’m interested in you.”

“You are?” she asked in a small voice.

A grin bloomed over Rylen’s face, “yes lass. With you.”

“But, you were…”

“I was an arse. I was _jealous_ that there was something going on between you and the Commander.” Gwen made a small “oh” of surprise at this confession. Rylen slid his hand from her chin to the back of her neck and tilted his head down to capture her lips with his. He kissed her softly, sweeping his tongue across her lips for a taste. He groaned quietly as he rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed, before he drew back. “He set me straight and before I did something else foolish, I needed to let you know how I felt. I’m interested in you, but are you interested in me?”

A joyful smile bloomed on her face, “yes Rylen. I’m interested in you.” She threw her arms around his neck and he swooped down to kiss her again. The kiss grew more heated as he coaxed her to part her lips for his tongue to delve past and deepen the kiss. She responded, parting her lips to tease back with her own tongue as her fingers twined in the curling hair at the nape of his neck.

They drew apart as breathing became an issue. Gwen tucked herself against his chest wrapping her arms around his waist wishing that there wasn’t armour between them. Rylen kissed her temple and then rested his cheek against her hair, “you are… I have never felt anything like this.”

“Neither have I,” she whispered in reply.

They held each other for a few more minutes until Rylen pulled back a bit so he could look at her, “we don’t have a temple of Mara here and I know that things here are different from what you are used to, but I would like to court you if you’ll permit me, lass.”

“I’d like that.” She reached up and gently ran a finger down his nose tracing the line of his tattoo then down over the lines on his chin. Rylen smiled at her as he grasped her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist enjoying the little tremble it evoked in her. He reached up and unclasped the amulet and placed it around her neck. She looked at the amulet with it’s pretty blue stone, the colour of Rylen’s eyes, caught in the center in swirls of silver. “But this is yours Rylen.”

“I had it made for you. It’s a gift; something from me to carry with you.” He stroked his thumbs along her collar bones on either side of the amulet where it rested alongside the one Nera made for her. “It suits you.”

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.”

Rylen suddenly dipped down to kiss her again before blazing a trail down the side of her neck to kiss wear his thumbs had been stroking. He hesitated for a moment then gently bit down on her clavicle. She sucked in a shuddering breath as she arched into him. Rylen smiled into her neck and stroked his hands down her back, enjoying the feel of her pressed up against him. “You are so small, lass. How do you do what you do?” he asked with a bit of amazement.

“It’s the armour,” she giggled. “That and I’m usually bristling with weapons.”

He hummed against the faint mark on her neck then stepped back before he got carried away. “Will you join me for dinner, lass?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up from your quarters later?” Gwen nodded. He kissed her knuckles before they separated to return to their own duties.

* * *

Gwen returned to the archery butts to continue practicing for a bit longer. She smiled to herself as she felt the amulet slide against her skin below her collar. “Gwen… uh…” an uncertain female voice spoke up yanking her out of her reverie. Gwen lowered the bow and turned around.

“Liesel. It’s good to see you. I thought you had left?”

The elf shifted her feet looking at the ground uncomfortably. “I thought about it, but…” she lapsed into silence.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Gwen spoke up. “I’m sorry about Nera. I’m sorry I couldn’t save her. I miss her.”

Gwen’s confession seemed to release something in the elf before her. “I want to pledge myself to your service,” she said in a hurry.

“What?” Gwen asked shocked. “Why? You don’t even like me!”

Liesel kept her gaze down and worried the edge of her sleeve cuff with her fingers. “Nera and I had talked about it – before. We were going to ask you after the Breach had been sealed. You cared about us; kept us safe…”

“I can’t guarantee your safety Liesel,” Gwen interrupted her. “I can’t guarantee anything anymore.”

“I know that. It just matters that you tried. Her death… her death wasn’t your fault and I heard you made those bastards pay. I don’t blame you for what happened.”

Gwen, startled, released a breath she didn’t realise she had been holding. “Thank you for saying that, but I still don’t understand why you would want – ”

“It’s what Nera would have wanted; it’s what I want. I don’t have…” Liesel raised her head to look at Gwen, tears spilling over her cheeks. “I’m scared, and I have no where to go.”

Gwen wrapped her arm around the elf’s shoulders and pulled her in for a tight hug. “I accept your pledge. You will be my companion and housecarl until either one of us wants to end your service. Agreed?” Liesel nodded. “Come on, let’s get you moved into my quarters.” When the elf started to protest, Gwen replied, “no arguing. It is completely appropriate that my housecarl and companion should be nearby. How can you guard my back and watch over my things if you aren’t with me?”

“Okay,” Liesel bent down and picked up a small pack from the ground. “This is all I have.” Gwen nodded and made a note to herself to get some more clothing and equipment for her.

They walked into the Great Hall and Gwen waved to Varric sitting at his usual spot by the fire as they passed on their way to Gwen’s quarters. She opened the door and invited Liesel in who hadn’t stopped craning her neck to look around. Evidently, she hadn’t ever been inside the main building of the fortress and seemed a bit overwhelmed. “These are my quarters. Through here,” she guided the woman, “will be your quarters. I didn’t get any furniture for here other than the bed that was already here as I didn’t need anything before, but we’ll get you your own wardrobe, desk, and other bits and pieces that you would like to have. The room has its own entrance you can use, and we can close the door between our rooms should either of us want privacy.”

A knock at Gwen’s door interrupted them. Liesel went back through the hall and opened the door. “Hello, Liesel. I wasn’t expecting you here,” Rylen said with surprise.

Gwen walked up beside Liesel. “The day has been full of surprises,” she smiled at him. “Liesel has pledged herself into my service. I have accepted. We were just getting her settled.”

“Really? Well that’s excellent news. I trust you’ll watch my lady’s back when my duties keep me from her side,” Rylen said to Liesel, smiling at the blush that appeared on Gwen’s cheeks.

“I will, ser. With my life.”

Gwen rolled her eyes at them. “Okay, knock it off you two.”

“Liesel, why don’t you join us for dinner?” Rylen offered. “We’re going to the tavern.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I don’t wish to interrupt…”

“I insist,” Rylen said.

Liesel hurried to her quarters to grab something before they left so Gwen took the opportunity to reach up and give him a light kiss. “That was kind of you to invite her,” she said quietly.

Once at the tavern, Max quickly spotted Gwen and waved her over to his table. “Gwen, come and join us. Bull has a special drink he’s sharing tonight to celebrate the dragon hunt.” Rylen said something in her ear about getting drinks and ordering food as she and Liesel moved to the table to claim three seats.

“You remember Liesel? She pledged herself to my service today, so you can expect to see much more of my companion from now on,” she told the group. They offered the elf welcome and congratulations; Gwen caught Varric’s eye and he mouthed “told you so” to her as she glanced his way.

“That’s a lovely necklace you’re wearing,” Cassandra commented. “What is it?”

“It’s an Amulet of Mara. Rylen gave it to me,” Gwen answered, looking up and smiling at Rylen as he arrived with drinks. Rylen sat beside her and lay his arm across the back of her chair then leaned over and kissed her temple.

“Oh! How romantic,” Cassandra said, then blushed as she tried to resume her usual stoic expression.

“Well it’s about time,” Bull said loudly as he deposited mugs of whatever he had in front of each person. He raised his cup in a toast, “to killing a high dragon like warriors of legend.”

“What exactly are we drinking?” Max asked looking at the drink in front of him and giving it a sniff.

“Maraas-lok.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means drink!” Bull said enthusiastically. Everyone lifted their mugs and took a swallow only to start gasping and choking. Bull looked at Gwen, watching her. She smirked then called on her fire shout to produce a curl of smoke that she exhaled and let rise to the ceiling. “Niiiice!”

Once the coughing and noise from the others choking on the harsh beverage, Varric asked, “so Rosy, what does it feel like to absorb a dragon soul?”

Gwen shrugged. “It’s hard to explain. It’s a rush. I, um, I kind of get caught up in it…”

“Looked like a dragon-sized orgasm from where I stood,” Bull dead-panned. Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

“Bull!” Gwen squealed mortified as the others chuckled around the table.

“What?” he shrugged innocently. “No pressure there, eh, Rylen.”

“Bull!” Gwen squealed again, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

Rylen chuckled. “Challenge accepted.”

“Rylen!”


	21. Personal Battles

Two bells rang out from the watch on the outer gatehouse notifying the keep that a rider had been spotted coming in the long road up from the valley floor. After a few minutes, two bells rang out with another two in quick succession putting the keep on alert; something wasn’t right. Cullen and Rylen stepped out of his office where they had been discussing the roster to look for themselves what had triggered the soldiers at the gate to signal that there was an issue. As the horse came closer, it became evident that it had lost its rider entirely. Leliana arrived from her rookery and joined the two men on the ramparts. “Leliana, do you have any scouts due to arrive today?” Cullen asked her.

“No, nothing.” They watched the horse closely as it cantered through the first gate and onto the causeway.

“Wait. Maker’s breath! Rylen go get Gwen; that looks like her accursed horse.” Rylen hurried across the causeway to the rotunda, he didn’t run because he didn’t want people to panic after hearing the alarm bell, but he walked more swiftly than he would have otherwise.

Leliana looked sharply at Cullen, “the one that fell at Therinfal? How is that possible?”

“Maker only knows; she did say it was a spirit horse.”

Rylen shoved open the door to the undercroft and hurried over to where Gwen was working on a piece of armour. “Lass! You need to come with me to the gates.”

She looked up from her work, “what’s going on Rylen? Is something wrong?” She got up and grabbed her bow where she had put it down while she worked.

“We’re not sure, but there’s a riderless horse coming in…”

“Shadowmere?” Gwen said excitedly. She grabbed his hand and pulled him with her. She hurried through Solas’ area and out onto the causeway and saw the dark horse canter through the gates. She flashed Rylen a grin and hopped over the edge of the causeway to the ground below before he could react.

“Lass!” he called out leaning over the railings of the causeway looking down to the courtyard. “You’ll be the death of me! What did you do that for?”

“Jump Rylen. Skyhold won’t let you fall.” Rylen gritted his teeth and sat on the edge of the causeway to spin his legs over the edge. _This was insane._ “Trust me,” Gwen said watching him. With a quick prayer for Andraste to preserve him, he shoved himself off the causeway. With a sickening lurch, he found himself falling only to _slow down_ at the last moment and land gently on his feet. He looked up at the causeway above him and then at Gwen who giggled at the expression on his face.

“How did you discover that?”

Gwen shrugged, “I jump off a lot of things. You should have seen the look on Solas’ face the first time I did it out of Leliana’s rookery.” She giggled at the memory of the disgruntled elf when she landed on the table scattering his paint brushes. He shook his head at her, and at himself if he was to be honest, he shouldn’t be surprised by her recklessness anymore.

Shadowmere neatly dodged around soldiers and stable hands that had emerged to try to catch the horse and slid to a stop in front of Gwen. “Shadowmere, you’re back! I didn’t know if you would be able to come back but I’m so glad you did,” she said throwing her arms around the spirit horse’s neck. “Did you rise again in the lake at Haven?”

The horse snorted and shook its head.

“At Therinfal?”

The horse nickered and bobbed its head up and down.

“I’m glad you didn’t rise at Haven. It’s destroyed, and you might have been trapped under the ice. Did you see anyone at Therinfal when you rose?”

Shadowmere shook its head.

“It’s abandoned then.” She gave the horse a hug again. “I’m glad to see you my friend. The stables are that way if you want to go visit the other horses.” Shadowmere tucked its head in against her back, then drew away and trotted off to the stables.

Cullen and Leliana joined them down in the courtyard as the horse trotted off. “That is – Shadowmere?” Cullen asked.

“Yes. It is a spirit so after it was killed it reappeared. I wasn’t sure if Shadowmere would as the first time might have been a fluke. But it reappeared at Therinfal. The fortress is abandoned.”

“Do we have any idea how long ago Shadowmere would have been at the fortress?”

“Shadowmere doesn’t have the concept of time, but it can travel faster than a living horse, doesn’t need to stop to rest, and would have come directly to me so I would guess only two or three days ago.” Cullen and Leliana nodded in understanding.

Gwen returned to the undercroft and picked up the piece of armour she had been working on. With the recent dragon they had killed she was working on making herself a new set of armour to replace the dragon scale she lost in Haven. With the additional schematics and techniques that Harritt and the new Dwarven arcanist, Dagna, she was making something more akin to her favourite Nightingale armour but with added dragon scales and webbing to keep it light and flexible suitable for her preferred quick and stealthy fighting style. Harritt had initially been skeptical over her preference stating that it was more suited for mages but with Dagna’s additional input they came up with something very interesting and appropriate. A fitted tabard of dragon webbing crisscrossed around her torso following the curves of her body to permit her full range of motion. A breast plate of thinly layered dragon scales that covered from clavicle and tapered to her waist lay over top. Pauldrons and vambraces of woven webbing and dragon scale covered her shoulders and arms.

Now she needed to do a bit of testing of the fit and a training session with Liesel would be a good starting point. The elf was starting to get more comfortable with Gwen without the buffer that Nera had provided.

Bull strolled over and leaned against the wall watching the two women spar without comment. “Listen, about our wager…”

“Yes, what about it?” Gwen blocked Liesel’s lunge and spun the woman away without pausing.

“I know we agreed upon three options, loser chooses one, but I think I have an option that you would agree to.”

“As long as it’s not sexual, because that’s not happening.” She crossed her blades and shoved Liesel back.

Bull snorted, “yeah, I got the message. Don’t think Rylen’s the sharing type. Hmm, maybe with Cullen…” Gwen snapped her eyes to where he was leaning and opened her mouth to protest in shock, and missed Liesel’s move; the elf swept her feet and Gwen tumbled into the dirt. Bull smirked and held his hand out to help her up as did Liesel who apologized profusely. Gwen grabbed Liesel’s hand and stood up. Bull continued with a shrug, “I want a sparring match although after that last move...” Gwen scowled at him. “As I was saying: Iron Bull versus the Dragonborn. No magic though.”

“Fine, but if you want the Dragonborn the shouts are permitted. Won’t use anything lethal or fire – wouldn’t want to scar your pretty face…”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. To first blood?”

“I thought you wanted a sparring match, not a tickle fight.”

Bull grinned, “alright. Blunted weapons and fight until someone taps out or a draw.”

“Agreed.”

“One other thing. I want you to fight in Qunari armour.”

“You’re trying to tip the balance in your favour by weighing me down in heavy armour?”

“No, there is a light armour. You’ll like it. Give me a couple of days to get it and then we can have our match.”

“Fine. Now can I get back to my current training session?” Bull nodded and wandered off back to the tavern.

“Are you really going to fight him?” Liesel asked awed as she watched the huge Qunari walk away.

“Yes, why not? He’s smaller than a dragon. Maybe not as smart.” Liesel giggled. “Do you want to continue?” Liesel nodded and moved back into a fighting stance.

* * *

After dinner, Rylen invited Gwen for a stroll in the garden. Taking her hand in his, he led her to a wooden bench tucked in among the flowering shrubs but away from the torches so that they could see the starlight. The air is warmer in the garden than elsewhere in Skyhold and the rich scent of Crystal Grace carried to them on a light breeze. Rylen draped his arm across Gwen’s shoulders as she snuggled in beside him lacing her fingers through his as she dropped her head back against his shoulder to look at the stars. “I heard something interesting today,” he said quietly.

“Oh?”

“Yes. Varric is taking wagers on an upcoming sparring match.”

“Really?” she asked innocently.

“Don’t be coy, I heard that you’re fighting the Iron Bull. Is that wise?”

“It a sparring match like any other. The Inquisitor and Lady Cassandra spar with him all the time, and no one worries about them. Why would I be any different?”

“Have you ever fought a Qunari?”

“No, but I’ve fought beside him; I know what he is capable of. I have fought giants and trolls before as well, so his size doesn’t concern me.”

“Yes, but… I beat you –”

Gwen spun around on the bench facing him, her shin pressed against his thigh. “You did not beat me, it was a draw and that was after I had already defeated four of your best men. Besides, the Dragonborn is facing Iron Bull, not Gwen. You have not seen all that I can do.”

“I just worry about your safety facing him.”

Gwen snorted, “if you doubt my ability, then place your wager on him.” He frowned in response. She stroked his cheek curling her fingers to rub along the edge of his jaw. “It’s sweet of you to worry, but I’ll be fine. If you would like, we can spar together tomorrow, and you can check my technique.”

“Mmm, I’d like that. All right, lass. I’ll leave it alone.” He picked up her braid from her shoulder. “So beautiful,” he said changing the subject, twisting her hair around his fist and arm as he drew her forward. He smiled, “like a rope and now I have you exactly where I want you.”

“It’s wrapped around you, perhaps I have you right where I want you?” Gwen drew in a sharp breath at the heated look he gave her, and she blushed.

Rylen closed the distance between them to capture her mouth with his. He placed teasing kissing on the corners of her mouth and then slid along her jaw to place an open-mouthed kiss over her pulse point under her ear. His fingers brushed the buttons at the top of her shirt, “may I?” Gwen nodded. She felt the collar loosen and slide across her shoulder as he dragged his hand back down the arm she was braced on as she leaned into him. Stubble scratched leaving a warm trail that followed the trail of licks and nips as Rylen moved down to her clavicle. She sucked in a breath at the memory of the bite he placed there before when he reached that spot again. He grinned against her skin. “Someone likes that,” he said then firmly placed his teeth against her again.

Gwen’s breath exploded from her chest turning her “yes” into more of a ragged hiss as she lurched towards Rylen. She spun on her knee, throwing her other leg over his legs until she straddled his lap. She took advantage of his surprise and threaded her fingers through the curling hair at the edge of his collar yanking his head back to place her own kisses and nips down his neck.

Rylen pulled her hips towards his and groaned at the feel of her against him. He chuckled, “I think I awoke the dragon.”

Gwen giggled as she came up for air, nipping him on the chin before kissing him. “You do have only yourself to blame.”

A voice tentatively cleared itself from a discreet distance, “lady Dragonborn?”

Rylen groaned and let his head drop against her shoulder at the interruption. He helped her off his lap and gave the collar of her tunic a quick tug getting her clothing straightened up again. “I’m here,” Gwen answered.

“Pardon the interruption, my lady,” the messenger said. “Uh, Knight-Captain.” The messenger sketched a salute to Rylen who acknowledged it with a nod. The messenger let his gaze slide away as he realised he had interrupted a lover’s tryst.

“Your message, soldier,” Rylen prompted.

“Oh! Yes, ser. Lady Dragonborn, the Commander has requested if you could attend him. He is in his office.”

“I’ll be there presently.”

“Very good. Thank you, my lady,” the soldier saluted and turned away briskly leaving the two alone again.

Gwen turned back to Rylen wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his chest, so she could hear his heart thump under her ear. “Sorry Rylen, I should go.”

“I’ll walk you up there, lass.” Rylen presented her with his arm and escorted her from the garden to the Commander’s office door. He turned away as she opened the door when suddenly there was a loud crash of wood and shattering glass behind him. He turned drawing his sword and stepped in the room behind Gwen thinking that the Commander was under attack. Gwen instinctively ducked and rolled into the room pulling her blades from her boots in a smooth motion ready to face any enemies. She sheathed them once she realised that there was no one else in the room. Cullen looked decidedly unwell and feverish; his skin was pale and drawn, with dark shadows under his eyes. His cheekbones stood out in stark relief, and his hair that was always so tidy looked ragged as if he’d been roughly dragging his hands through it repeatedly.

“Maker’s breath! I didn’t hear you enter. I…” Cullen shook his head noticing his friend behind her, “forgive me. I shouldn’t have disturbed you.”

“Cullen, talk to us please,” Gwen said as Rylen quietly sheathed his sword and closed the door behind them.

“You don’t have to –” he started to say as he came around his desk only to groan as he stumbled; the strength in his legs had left him. Gwen shot forward only to have him wave her off. “I never meant for this to interfere.” He stood leaning on the desk, not making eye contact with either of them.

“Are you going to be all right?”

“Yes… I don’t know,” he frowned looking at Rylen. “You heard what happened at the Ferelden Circle. It was taken over by abominations. The templars – my friends – were slaughtered.” He paced to the arrow slit to look out as he gathered his thoughts. “I was tortured. They tried to break my mind, and I – how can you be the same person after that? Still, I wanted to serve. They sent me to Kirkwall. I trusted my knight-commander, and for what? Her fear of mages ended in madness. Kirkwall’s Circle fell. Innocent people died in the streets; you saw the aftermath of that destruction and chaos first hand.” He turned and looked at Gwen, “and after all that, I still didn’t learn. I’ve treated you with suspicion and fear even though you never gave us reason to mistrust you. Can you see why I want nothing to do with that life?”

“Of course, we can. I – ” Gwen stepped closer to him.

“Don’t! You should be questioning what I’ve done,” he paced before them. “I thought this would be better – that I would regain some control over my life. But these thoughts won’t leave me… How many lives depend on our success? I swore myself to this cause… I will not give less to the Inquisition than I did to the Chantry. I should be taking it!” He viciously lashed out punching a bookcase scattering several books, “I should be taking it.”

Rylen’s eyes widened, “you’re no longer taking lyrium.”

Cullen’s eyes flicked to Gwen; she gave a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. She didn’t reveal Cullen’s secret to Rylen. Cullen nodded back curtly before groaning at the movement. “No, I’m no longer taking lyrium. I stopped taking it before the Conclave.”

Rylen looked stunned. “It’s possible,” he said quietly to himself, shocked.

“This doesn’t have to be about the Inquisition, Cullen. Is this what you want?”

Cullen stood there for a few moments, catching his breath. He finally unclenched his fist, “no. But… these memories have always haunted me – if they become worse, if I cannot endure this…”

“You can.” Gwen laid her hand on his arm. “You’re not alone, Cullen. Your friends are here for you. Come now, let us help you.”

Between the two of them, she and Rylen helped Cullen ascend the ladder to his quarters and got him out of his armour. She noticed that he seemed a bit uncomfortable with Rylen’s continued presence. “Rylen,” she whispered as he placed the armour on its stand, “go to my quarters; I’ll come right there after I do some healing.” Rylen left quietly.

“Cullen, do you want me to heal your headache before or after you get into bed?”

He shifted awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck, “do you mind – ”

“Not at all,” she said turning her back on him. “Let me know when you are ready.” She heard soft sounds of fabric moving behind her as Cullen got himself settled, only turning when he muttered that he was ready. Gwen turned around and smirked; Cullen lay in bed with the blankets pulled up to his chin. “Comfortable?”

“Yes.”

Gwen walked over to the bed and gently eased the bed covered out of his grip and smoothed them around his shoulders. “Better? Can I sit down?” Cullen nodded. “I’m going to do some healing now so if you are comfortable, close your eyes and relax.” Cullen nodded again. Gwen sat at the top of the bed and started casting her healing spell floating her hands over his head, down his neck, and over his shoulders and chest. She continued to heal as long as she could until she ran out of magicka as his breathing became easier, lighter. Cullen fell asleep and she quietly, carefully slipped off the bed and made her way back to her own quarters.

Gwen opened the door to her quarters and found the room softly lit with candles and a warm fire crackling on the hearth. “You’re still here,” she said as she spotted Rylen sitting before the fire with one of her books which he put down as he got up to greet her. “I wasn’t sure if you would have still been waiting.”

“I wanted to make sure you got back safely. I thought we could have a wee nip before the end of the night. I brought a bottle of Starkhaven whiskey with me when I left to go help relief efforts in Kirkwall.”

“I’ll get some glasses.” Gwen returned in a few moments with two small tumblers that she handed to him then sat down on the couch tucking her feet underneath her.

Rylen silently poured the two glasses, and handed one to her as he sat down beside her. “Slàinte,” he said as he tapped his tumbler against hers then took a sip. He was quiet for a while taking a sip and staring into the fire. “I never knew exactly what Cullen experienced personally at the Ferelden Circle when it fell, but Templars talked, reports were shared between Circles as precautions, and we all knew that it was horrific. Then in Kirkwall, I didn’t know what precisely he went through there, but I saw the aftermath.

“There was a red lyrium statue in the middle of the Kirkwall Circle that was the remnant of the insane knight-commander. A mage destroyed the Chantry in retaliation for it turning a blind eye to all the abuses against mages by the same Templars that were sworn to protect them. Kirkwall is a coastal city, you ken, so it always reeks of fish and rotting seaweed, but by the time we arrived after the Chantry explosion, it smelled of a charnel house at the height of summer.

“The explosion was so violent that those within the Chantry, itself; well, there was nothing left to find of them. Masonry was flung with such force that it ripped through buildings that were wood and plaster, and rained down in a deadly hail over the rest. It took weeks to clear rubble out of the city; many people that didn’t die in the initial blast died of injuries, died of starvation and exposure, or killed by looters before we could get to them.”

He poured them another drink and took a large swallow. “And what happened at Therinfal, what happened to you…” He shuddered. “I don’t blame Cullen for leaving the Order. It’s not the Order I made my vows and pledged my life of service to. And yet, I’m still bound to it by that daily Maker-damned philter,” he said bitterly. “I am stunned that Cullen is still functioning, that he’s still alive.”

He took another swallow and Gwen took the opportunity to press into his side to offer her support tucking her head into his shoulder. “No one tells you that lyrium is addictive. You don’t find out until later, after the bloom of your dedication wears off, and the first draught is late. Then you experience the pain and craving. For some, the addiction drives them mad. Those that resist the song eventually lose their minds, lose their memories. It’s both a blessing and a curse, as you forget the bad; the failed Harrowings, the mages that succumb to possession, but you also forget the good.

“You forget little things at first like where you left something, but eventually you forget memories of your childhood, your friends, your family. You forget the people you care about – the ones you love.” Rylen’s voice was low and husky, “I don’t want to forget you, lass.”

Gwen lifted her head from his shoulder and looked at him. His brows were drawn together in anguish. Gwen dropped the empty tumbler on the floor and threw her leg over his settling her knees on either side of his hips. She wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, and kissed him hard. “You’re not losing me, you won’t forget. We’ll find a way. I swear it.” She kissed him again as she swiped her thumbs across his cheeks then buried herself in his neck as his arms cinched around her waist pulling her tight against him and he buried his face in her shoulder.


	22. And in this Corner

After a few sessions sparring with Gwen, Rylen was feeling more comfortable with her upcoming match against the Iron Bull. He discovered quite quickly that she had, in fact, been pulling her strikes when he sparred with her the first time back in Haven. Without that reservation, he was very hard pressed to accomplish a single draw between them. Even so he could provide her with observations on some areas she needed to be aware of; Gwen’s technique was forged mainly from facing sword and shield fighters. Her experience facing two-handed warriors was more limited to sparring with Farkas and the not-so-bright giants with their preferred “smash and stomp” technique so Rylen provided some suggestions for her to bring into play with a more polished two-handed opponent. “Looking good lass. Just watch that left elbow so you don’t create an opening of the inside of your guard. Come on, that’s enough for today; let’s go get a drink.”

“So Rosy, how are you feeling about your upcoming match,” Varric asked as Gwen sat down at their table.

Gwen snorted a laugh, “what’s wrong Varric? Haven’t figured out where to place your money yet?”

“Oh, I know exactly where to place my money,” he replied.

“As do I,” Rylen said placing a tankard in front of her then sitting down beside.

“You decided, did you? On Iron Bull, huh?” Gwen teased him, bumping his shoulder.

“What’s on Iron Bull?” bellowed the man in question strolling into the tavern taking his usual spot in the corner after signalling Cabot with his order and placing a bundle on the bench beside him.

“Drinks – you’re buying,” Gwen responded immediately.

“Sure. If you beat me.”

“Let me get started on my tab then.”

Varric chuckled as the two of them sniped at each other.

Gradually over the course of the evening Max and his other companions arrived to wind down the day. They spoke of all manner of things, but the subject of the match kept coming up. Finally, someone asked the question that Bull was waiting for. “When is this match going to take place? I think everyone has placed their wagers by now,” Blackwall commented.

Bull casually picked up the bundle that had been sitting unnoticed beside him. “As promised Dragonborn, here’s the final component to our agreement,” he said casually tossing the bundle to her.

Gwen’s eyebrows raised, “this is…?”

“Yup.”

Gwen untied the string on the bundle to reveal some cloth and what appeared to be skeins of black rope. “You can’t be serious?”

Sera stood up on her stool and leaned over the table to look at what Gwen held in her lap, “what you don’t think you can beat her so you’re gonna tie one of her hands behind her back?”

Bull scowled, “no, it’s antaam-saar. Qunari light armour.” Varric choked on his ale and then started chuckling; he had seen the antaam-saar when the Arishok’s forces had been stranded in Kirkwall.

“Hmph, looks like some sort of kinky sex thing,” Sera commented.

“Does it come with instructions because I have no idea how this is supposed to go on?”

“Don’t worry, I can help you into it,” Bull said with a grin.

“Just remember, anything funny and you’ll be sparring with fewer fingers than you already have.”

Rylen leaned towards her and whispered something in her ear. Gwen kept a straight face but couldn’t prevent the blush that flew up her cheeks. “Oh ho, me thinks someone just offered to help Gwen out of the armour,” Max teased.

Gwen grabbed the roll off Sera’s dinner plate and threw it at Max. “Shut up, or I’ll name you my champion and you can wear the armour. It’s your fault, after all!”

“How is it my fault?” Max practically squawked.

“Back in the Fallow Mire, when we were breaking into the keep after the Avvar… While you were upstairs looting, Bull and I made a wager to see who could get the most kills with blades once the gates were up. No sooner than we made the bet, you ordered me to provide support with my bow. I lost the damn bet before we even started!” Max stared at her with his mouth open unsure if he should apologize or laugh. The others weren’t so undecided as they started with some quiet chuckles or giggles until everyone was laughing so hard that several had to wipe away tears from their eyes.

Bull sat back with a sigh, “yeah, that was so good. Easiest bet I ever won.” Gwen stuck her tongue out at him. “So we doin’ this tomorrow?”

“No point in waiting now that I have the armour. Mid-morning after the chill is out of the courtyard.” Bull smirked at her.

* * *

Gwen sat at her little vanity placing a multitude of braids into her hair to keep it out of her way. A feeling like butterflies fluttered and swirled in her belly; not of fear, but nervous anticipation for the fight to come. She got up from the vanity and pulled on a pair of breeches. She yanked her sleep tunic over her head then took the longest piece of fabric from the bundle Bull gave her, and wrapped it around the back of her neck, down across her breasts, then around her back to tie it firmly. She was pleasantly surprised how well it kept things where they should be; no wardrobe malfunctions for the Dragonborn. She made sure that the amulets, Nera’s and Rylen’s, were tucked underneath securely then tied the other pieces of fabric around her hips. Looking at the black rope and the Silverite ring that she hadn’t noticed before, she was stumped with what to do with it.

The door creaked open behind her and she spun around, dagger in hand ready to throw, to face whomever it was that opened the door. “Can I give you a hand with that,” Bull said leaning on the doorframe, observing her. Older healed scars littered her skin whereas the most recent from Therinfal and the terror demon were more livid in colour; this was a woman who’s entire adulthood had been forged and honed in battle.

“Don’t you knock? What if I hadn’t been dressed?”

“Then I’d be starting off the day with a bigger smile on my face than I already have,” he grinned at her. Gwen scoffed at him. Bull stepped inside and held his hand out for the rope, “here, let me help.” He laid five of the longest braided ropes around the back of her neck over the fabric she had already tied on and spread them out slightly over her shoulders. Then alternating each rope in an over-under pattern, he wove the ropes across her chest and passed them under her arms.

Stepping around behind her, he paused his mouth going dry at the tattoo that ran up her back from hip to shoulder. A clever pattern mimicking flames that camouflaged the scarred skin that had been melted by dragon fire. As much as the lust flared in his gaze, so too did the respect he felt; she was a survivor. Shaking himself out of his haze, he began weaving the strands into a complicated knotted pattern that ran smoothly down her spine ending in a loop.

He took the next set of five braided ropes and laid them over her hips looping them into the Silverite ring low on her back of her hips. Finally, weaving a complicated pattern of twists and diamonds, he created the armour along her arms to protect her elbows and act as vambraces on her forearms. He turned Gwen around and smoothed his hands across her upper chest making sure that nothing was twisted or pinching. Gwen narrowed her eyes at him, he held his hands up feigning innocence, “what? Just making sure that it all sits correctly. I wouldn’t want you to be at a disadvantage because the armour wasn’t right. Twist, turn; make sure it’s good.”

Gwen twisted and moved her arms around like she would with the swords, “uh huh. I think its good.”

Bull took one more admiring glance at her and nodded, “looks good. See you out there.” He left, closing the door behind him.

 Gwen walked back over to the polished looking glass and looked at the finished armour. She had to admit, it did look good and her braided hair complimented the armour well. She grinned to herself, there was one more thing she could do to finish of the look. She quickly sorted through the few little cosmetic containers that Josephine provided her until she located the kohl. She took a soft wide brush and dipped it into the kohl knocking off the loose powder before sweeping it from temple to temple across her eyes, along the tops of her cheeks, and blended it into the hairline at the temples. It reminded her of some of the warpaint that Aela liked to experiment with. Examining the finished look, her pale eyes appeared to glow from within the dark shadow.

Gwen headed down the corridor from her quarters and out into the Great Hall. Varric looked up from his spot by the fireplace and spotted her and gave a low whistle as he stood up. “Is that you Rosy?” he asked in shock. “Rylen’s going to have kittens when he sees you. You ready?”

Gwen grinned at him, “yup, good to go.” Varric waved his hand indicating for her to proceed him and followed her out of the Great Hall.

Around the sparring ring, a crowd had already gathered, and more spectators lined the battlements, staircases, and tavern roof. As big as the space was, you could have heard a pin drop on the stone as everyone stopped whatever conversations they were having as Gwen strode to the ring. She stopped at the rack with the practice weapons and grabbed two swords after testing a few to find the weight and balance she was happy with then ducked under the barrier to the ring. Gwen noticed Rylen from the corner of her eye and he looked stunned. _Kittens, indeed._  Giggling to herself, she walked over to him while blatantly ignoring Bull who was himself smirking at Rylen’s expression; she leaned over the fence and whispered in Rylen’s ear, “you’re catching flies.” Rylen’s teeth snapped together, and she giggled as she sauntered back into the center of the ring.

“Glad you could make it Dragonborn,” Bull drawled loudly enough for everyone to hear. “I’m looking forward to seeing you go down before me.” His wiggled his brows at her.

“In your dreams Bull, because that will be the only time it’ll happen,” she taunted back. Two could play that game. The crowd hooted and cheered. “You gonna talk at me all day or are we doing this?”

She spun the swords in her hands as he stood up from where he was leaning against the fence and picked up the great sword that was behind his elbow. _Okay, that was a surprise_ – a great sword, not his usual two-handed great axe. She took her spot in the ring, her right-hand sword held up before her angled diagonally across her body, the left sword held lower pointed directly at Bull. She relaxed into her stance and remained motionless, focused on Bull. He stepped toward her with the great sword resting on his right shoulder. She was a duel wielding fighter, so he could expect her to go on the offensive right away – the best defense for a duel wielder was a strong offense.

He waited, watching for that telltale muscle twitch that would indicate an attack was coming. He waited… and Gwen muscles didn’t even twitch under the weight of her swords. The crowd got quiet, confused as to what was _not_ happening before them. _Ah, fuck it_ _,_ Bull thought and exploded swinging the sword in a fast sweeping arc from his shoulder. Gwen blocked with one sword and used the other to give Bull’s hand a stinging smack with the flat of the blade, making him hiss, before she spun away. Bull attacked again, she blocked and spun out of reach. Again, Bull attacked and as she ducked past, she put both swords into one hand and dipped her hand into his pocket and tucking the object she found into her own clothing. The attack and block dance went on for a while and the crowd started to get a little restless until suddenly Bull took a hand off the great sword as she ducked past and landed a glancing blow with his fist. Gwen stumbled to her knees. A roar went up from the spectators; part of them cheering, the others groaning about Bull’s hit.

Gwen quickly regained her feet and put some distance between them as she wiped at her bottom lip, tasting blood. She looked up and found Bull grinning at her. She gave him a feral grin, blood sticking to her teeth from the split in her lip. “My turn… _Su Grah Dun._ ” Gwen shot forwards, her shout lending speed to her movements; she struck Bull on the upper thigh with her left sword and as he went to block it, she struck a downward strike to his shoulder on his blind side making his arm go numb. She spun past him striking him with the pommel of a sword to his ribs then landing a blow across the back of his legs. She came back around him pressing him hard with a hellish flurry of hard-to-block attacks; his bared skin bloomed with dark marks advertising her hits.

As the effects of the shout ebbed away and she could feel herself slowing down, she backed off and once again resumed a waiting stance. He stood facing her with his head lowered slightly, snorting softly with each breath, but the sheen of sweat on his body betrayed how hard he was working against her. He attacked; they traded blows, one or two sneaking past Gwen’s guard to leave bruises that immediately bloomed across her skin. They broke apart again.

“Come on,” he growled. “Quit holding out on me. I want to face _that_.”

Gwen knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted the Dragon Aspect he saw when she fought the Fereldan Frostback. “Are you sure?”

“Fuck, yeah! That’s why we’re doin’ this,” he said with glee.

“All right.” Gwen stood up and backed away slightly then shouted, _“_ _Mul Qah Diiv_.” Around the sparring ring, there were gasps of shock and some people backed away fearful and uncertain as to what they were seeing, the spectral armour swirled around her mimicking the scaled and horned appearance of a dragon. “ _Ol hi hind,_ Iron Bull _. Hi grind fin Dovahkiin. Piraak hin miiraad!_ ” Gwen rumbled with deep tone of the thu’um, her eyes glowed with dragon fire from within the kohled mask across her face.

With a roar, Bull lunged at her swinging his blade down with a devastating blow that would have cleaved an ordinarily armoured warrior in half. Gwen didn’t flinch but let the blow land. She could hear some frightened sounds from the crowd as the blow came down, but the sword bounced off the dragon armour harmlessly with a loud ring. She knew she only had a few minutes with the ethereal armour so now was time to end the fight. If Bull had difficulties blocking her before, the additional strength behind her blows now from the dragon aspect pressed him to his limits. He grunted as she scored her hits ducking in and out of his reach; his hits occasionally landing to with a ringing chime off her armour.

“ _Fus Ro Dah!_ ” she shouted blasting Bull back from her. She giggled to herself, _who doesn’t like a good ragdoll._ Bull was tossed away from her, his sword falling from his hand as he landed on his back with a heavy thud in the dirt of the ring knocking the breath from his body. Gwen dashed forward and placed her foot on his horn pinning his head to the ground as she laid one sword across his throat, and the other she dangled just outside of his line of sight. “Do you yield?” she asked staring down at him locking her eyes on him.

Bull growled. Gwen caught the minute twitch of muscle indicating he was about to move so she allowed the other sword that had been out of his line of sight to swing down in her grip, the flat of the blade whacking him in the testicles. Men in the crowd groaned in sympathy as Bull’s body jerked in response but he didn’t make any other move or sound. She smirked at him, “Do. You. Yield?”

“Yes Dragonborn, I yield.” The crowd cheered as money started changing hands all around them.

Gwen lifted the swords away and removed her foot from his horn, then offered him her hand to help him up. He hesitated, there was no way that this little human could effectively help him up. She quirked her eyebrow at him daring him to accept her offer. Bull grasped her offered hand and couldn’t quite manage to hide his surprise when she hauled him to his feet. The armour dissipated moments later and he wrapped has arm around her waist hauling her up as he swung her around in a hug. “Good fight!” He put her down and before Gwen could react, wiped his thumb across the blood on her split lip and popped it into his own mouth. He groaned, “taarsidath-an halsaam!”

“Do I even want to know what that means?”

He gave her a heated grin as his eye roamed over her from head to foot and back up again, “probably not.”

Max ducked under the fence to the sparring ring before anyone else and gave Gwen a hug to congratulate her on her win. “You two need to do that again some time. That was one of the most entertaining fights I’ve ever seen.” He released her, “the scenery wasn’t bad either.”

She laughed at his teasing, “I’d be game.” Bull grinned.

“Tavern after you both get cleaned up?” Varric called, jingling a coin pouch in their direction.

Gwen headed to her quarters. She removed the rope and sash from around her hips, and started to work on the armour on her top when she was interrupted by a knock at her door. “Rylen! I thought you were on duty?”

“I am but I wanted to stop by and check on you. That was an amazing match. And that armour…” he said giving her a heated gaze as he ran his hands down her arms then rested them lightly on her hips.

“Well since you’re here, can you give me a hand with something?”

“Anything.”

Gwen hid her smile and slowly turned her back to him, “can you help me out of this. Undo the knot at the bottom and it should loosen everything.”

He lifted his hands to her shoulders letting his fingers slip between the ropes to touch her skin. Rylen sucked in a breath, her skin was warm and soft beneath his finger tips. He let his fingers drift across her back to the knotted rope; he wiggled the knot until he got it to release, the ropes going slack immediately. Rylen put his hands on her bare waist to stop her from turning. He stroked his fingertips down the tattoo smiling as goosebumps erupted over her skin. He grasped her waist again and stepped closer to place an open-mouthed kiss to the back of her neck. Gwen moaned as heat bloomed low in her belly. Wrapping an arm around her waist and the other around her upper chest, he pulled her back against him; he couldn’t help pressing the evidence of his arousal against her as he groaned into the back of her neck. He stepped around to the front of her and ran his fingers up her waist until they wrapped around her ribs, his thumbs lightly brushed back and forth along the underside of her breasts. “I have to report for duty,” he said leaning his forehead against hers.

Gwen huffed, “you are a terrible tease, Knight-Captain.”

He smiled at her. “You were amazing today. They’re waiting for you in the tavern. Why don’t I join you there later?”

“Sounds good,” she leaned forward to kiss him. As she did, she dragged her fingernails up the inside front of his thigh towards his groin. His eyes flared with lust. “Two can play that game, remember that.”

* * *

Gwen found Max and his companions settled in the tavern when she arrived. Varric tossed her pouch of coins. “Rylen’s winnings, Rosy. He told me to give them to you.” She raised a brow in question. Varric chuckled, “he was very confident of your victory.”

“Hey Bull – I think this belongs to you,” Gwen pulled the stone out of her pocket and tossed it to him.

Bull caught it and looked back at her. “How’d… when’d you get that?”

She shrugged, “while we were fighting.”

Varric looked at her incredulously, “you picked his pockets _while_ you were fighting?”

Gwen shrugged, “I had time.”

Blackwall barked a laugh, “Andraste’s tits, that’s – ballsy. Please tell me you don’t do that with red templars?”

“Nah. No pockets in plate mail.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Ol hi hind, Iron Bull. Hi grind fin Dovahkiin. Piraak hin miiraad! - As you wish, Iron Bull. You face the Dragonborn. Have your opportunity!  
> taarsidath-an halsaam - I will bring myself sexual pleasure later, while thinking about this with great respect.


	23. The Power of Words

Gwen made her way up the stairs to Lady Vivienne’s balcony for tea at Josephine’s invitation. She was rather surprised by the invitation but happy to accept. She fondly remembered when she was a girl, her mother and grandmother sitting down to tea in the afternoons. From about seven years of age until her sennach died, they would have her join them for lessons in polite conversation, but her favourite part was the sweet tea with snowberry tarts and dollops of thick cream; she had been a child, after all. After escaping to Skyrim, opportunities to sit down with other women and share time together wasn’t possible, but perhaps she could again here in Skyhold. She was quietly excited about the chance to join the them at Vivienne’s balcony. She was about to step out the door at the top of the stairs when a conversation just beyond stopped her in her tracks.

“If the Inquisitor wants the Lady Dragonborn to accompany him when he attends the Winter Palace, then she needs to go with him,” Josephine stated.

“Surely not. That – _barbarian_ – will be an embarrassment on the Inquisition,” came the haughty protest. “The nobility of Orlais will look at that _savage_ and see the Inquisition as being no better.”

“She is not a savage nor a barbarian, Madame de Fer. She is a highly intelligent woman of immense skill; she pickpocketed the Iron Bull _during_ a fight. She would be an asset to have there,” Leliana said softly.

The mage sniffed, “there is not enough time to teach her all that is required to be remotely passable.”

Gwen gritted her teeth in anger and disappointment. _How_ dare _that snotty bitch say that about her_. She was half of the mind to show the arrogant mage just how much of a savage she could be, but then that would just reinforce the mage’s opinion. She swallowed her anger, she needed to show them that she was more. She made the effort to make a noise at the door alerting the women to her presence and then walked up the final steps to Vivienne’s landing with her normal silent gait. She noticed Leliana hide a smile but didn’t react; she knew that the Spymaster was aware that the conversation had been overheard. “Good afternoon, ladies.” She sat down, crossing her legs at her ankles and tucking them below her seat demurely.

“Good afternoon, lady Dragonborn. We’re please that you could join us,” Josephine replied politely. Vivienne sniffed and looked away. Even though they were in Vivienne’s space, Josephine performed the duties of hostess and poured tea for the group. Gwen took her tea, added a tiny bit of milk, then swished the little spoon back and forth before flicking off the bit of tea, and placing the spoon on the saucer without clinking the spoon against the porcelain. She picked up the delicate tea cup with her first finger and thumb through the handle and the others tucked in to balance the cup and took a quiet sip. Placing the cup back on the saucer she looked up at the ladies who had gone silent.

Leliana smiled at the flawless performance, “an asset, indeed.”

“As you may know, the Inquisitor will be attending the Winter Palace for the peace talks between the rival leaders of Orlais. He will be accompanied to the ball by several of his companions, and the advisors, but he has also requested that you join us as well. There are rumours aplenty regarding you, which we could use to our advantage by having you create a distraction enabling the Inquisitor to investigate the threat to the Empress,” Josephine informed her. “To that end, we wish to enlist your cooperation as there are… preparations to be made to get you ready for the court, although, it would appear fewer lessons than originally thought.”

“Queen Elisif, and Emperor Titus Mede, even to his death, had no cause for complaint over my manners,” commented Gwen.

“His death?” Josephine asked.

“Yes. He was assassinated.”

“Oh,” Josephine gasped. “Did they ever capture or identify the assassin?”

“Josie…” Leliana gently chided her friend with a little giggle and eye-roll.

Gwen looked at the ambassador directly, “no, they did not.” Josephine looked at her for a moment before raising her hand to her mouth in shock as she realised the assassin was sitting before her.

“Wardrobe will be key to grabbing attention,” Leliana continued, redirecting the conversation back to the matter at hand.

Vivienne made a moue of distaste, “yes, it will be imperative to cover those _disgraceful_ markings that were displayed recently. Something high necked and long sleeved to give her some semblance of culture as fitting of a lady.”

“Surely it would be a mistake to dress me as a china doll. If the nobility has heard rumours that I am a _barbarian_ , then it would be to our advantage to dress me as a _savage_ so that they too, can badly under-estimate me.” The enchanter flushed as she had her words thrown back at her.

“That isn’t a bad idea,” Leliana said thoughtfully. “Rather than dressing Gwen with the expected Orlesian fashions, we should do our best to make her stand out. I think I have just the seamstress for the job.”

“Perfect. The Inquisitor is taking lessons; you should join him as well. If that is acceptable with you, Lady Vivienne?” Josephine asked. The mage indicated her agreement. Gwen cringed internally; spending afternoons with the woman would be annoying but at least Max would be there as well to act as a buffer.

They finished their tea and took their leave of each other; Gwen didn’t hesitate but leapt over the bannister of Vivienne’s balcony to the floor below startling a few nobles that hung around hoping for a glimpse of the Inquisitor. She flashed them a toothy grin causing one or two to gasp in shock and draw away from her. Varric chuckled as she drew close to his table by the fire, “now I know you are doing that on purpose. Rough day with ladies?”

Gwen scoffed as she sat down on one of the benches, her arms wrapped around an upraised knee. “You know exactly how the conversation went, _dwarf_.”

Varric softened, “don’t pay the Iron Lady any mind, Rosy. We all love you the way you are; none of us want you to be one of those insipid damsels. And you know that’s not what Rylen wants.”

“Yeah, I know. Just stings sometimes.”

“I get it,” he said patting her knee.

“Thanks, Varric. I’ll leave you to your writing," she said getting up. "I’m off to see Solas.”

He shook his head, “you are a sucker for punishment today.” Gwen laughed as she waved at him and headed through the door to Solas’ space within the rotunda.

Gwen found the elf quietly contemplating the partially finished panel. His paintbrush held before him as if frozen in the air. She studied the finished panels and recognized the events they told; the opening of the Breach, the birth of the Inquisition, and the alliance with the mages. “The fourth panel is of the destruction of Haven and finding of Skyhold?” Gwen asked.

The elf started, “ah, yes, it is. Is there something I can help you with da'isenatha?”

“I don’t want to interrupt if you are in the middle of something, but if you have a moment, I wanted to ask you about the Word Wall we found in the Hinterlands.”

Solas frowned momentarily then walked over to his desk to tend his brushes. “You are referring to the wall within the dragon’s lair with the script – what is it you wish to ask? Surely you know more about them than I do.”

Gwen ran her fingers across the spines of the books on his desk, “that may be, but you said before that you have explored the world through the Fade; I wanted to know if you’ve seen any other walls like that in your travels. The Shouts always consist of three words; I’m shocked to find one here. If our worlds are remotely related as we suspect, then there should be at least two more walls that I need to find. I have no idea if I should concentrate on Ferelden, or include Orlais, or if I should even expand my search farther afield.”

“I have not seen one, but we can explore together. If you would like to try now, I can put you to sleep with a simple spell and then guide you,” he offered as he wiped off his hands from any linger moisture from washing his brushes.

“Sure, that would be great. Thank you, Solas.”

He guided her to a chaise away from the doorways entering the rotunda and bade her lie down. “Close your eyes, and allow your breathing to slow down. Relax yourself, and let your thoughts focus on one of the most memorable walls you experienced in your own home.” He quietly pulled a chair closer to the chaise and sat down. Gwen felt a growing power emanating from Solas as he gathered his magic then a wave passed over her. She waited. The wave repeated. She popped open one eye to see Solas looking at her, frowning.

“You cast your sleep spell on me?”

“Yes. Twice, to no effect.”

Gwen sighed, “it appears I’m resistant to a sleep spell. I guess we’ll have to wait until I naturally fall asleep or resort to an alchemical option if you know of any.”

“It would appear so. As we did in Haven, when you go to sleep tonight, focus on yourself in the Great Hall and I can find you there.”

She spun her feet onto the floor and stood up, “all right. We’ll try tonight. Thank you for your assistance with this.”

“Ma're vhalla, da'isenatha.” Solas inclined his head slightly as she turned took her leave.

* * *

Gwen stood in the Great Hall. It was quiet and empty; the only sounds were the crackling of flame from the torches and the fire by Varric’s favoured place within the hall. Occasionally, a misty light would flit through the hall appearing and disappearing through the walls and doors. She turned around slowly and as she did so, she noticed that the banners, glass, and furnishings shifted and altered as she moved as if she was seeing Skyhold change over time around her. It was disconcerting to say the least as the fortress fell into disrepair after what appeared to have been a battle. Giving herself a shake, she concentrated on what the Hall looked like just earlier that day. The hall solidified and appeared to come to a standstill as if it had been _moving_ before that point. Turning, she felt eyes upon her from the door to the rotunda. “Solas?”

“I am here, da'isenatha,” he said walking through the main doors. “Come, let us go outside.” Gwen looked once more at the rotunda door and back to Solas then followed him out. They stood in the courtyard. The night was clear, stars twinkled and sparkled in the crisp, cold air. The larger moon was high in the sky, with Satina, starting it’s rise. “Think of a dragon wall in Skyrim. Take us there.”

Gwen thought for a moment of one of the many walls she had been to. In the night sky, an aurora flickered above the mountains; ribbons of green and blue waved liked threadbare flags atop the mountain peaks. Beside her, Solas gasped at the sight. Secunda rose in place of Satina, and Masser sailed far above. Suddenly the air rushed by them as rock, snow, and trees flew past them as they rose to the peak of the mountain. Below them, valleys lay covered in snow with a river flowing like a ribbon of glass in the moonlight. In the distance to the east, the ancient Dwemer ruins of Irkngthand are just visible. Gwen shuddered at the memory of that place. Turning away, she spotted the dragon wall just as she remembered. “This way, Solas,” she said leading him through a rocky archway. The broken bones of mammoth, bears, and the odd cow littered the ground; the remnants of the resident dragon’s meals. She stepped into the area and stumbled as a burning sensation made her gasp and rub her knuckles along her sternum in an attempt to calm the feeling in her chest as a dragon soul clamoured within her.

Solas grasped her elbow and drew back. “Watch,” he commanded.

She watched as a memory of herself and Lydia crept onto the mountain path, carefully skirting the edges of the stone gateways. She had a simpler dwarven bow readied as she snuck towards the dragon that was as-of-yet, unaware of their approach. Memory-her turned to signal Lydia just as her companion stepped on some loose stones sending them skittering against the bones alerting the dragon. Gwen giggled at her own reaction of disgust even as she felt the urge to jump into the battle to help her memory-self. The dragon rose to the sky as the two women fought it. Gwen cringed a couple of times watching her less-experienced self fight the dragon making mistakes in tactics, but eventually the dragon crashed to the ground and she finished it off. The burning sensation she felt before went quiet and she realised that it was the soul of the dragon she just watched in her memory. The dragon corpse ignited as the soul was released. It was interesting to see, from the outside perspective, what it looked like when she absorbed a dragon soul. _Bull might be right; it does kind of look like an orgasm,_ she thought uncomfortably, suddenly feeling self-conscious with the silent elf beside her.

Memory-her checked over her companion and the two women approached the wall. Gwen gasped as she remembered what happened next; before she even reached the wall, a sarcophagus burst open as a dragon priest rose from the coffin. She and Lydia scrambled for cover as the undead priest rained fire and ice down on them.

“What is that?” Solas asked as he watched the battle.

“That was Krosis, a dragon priest. They are powerful undead that used to be mortal men who worshipped dragons. For their service, the dragons granted the priests their powers and knowledge. Using that power, they discovered the secret of immortality – of a sort – and then betrayed their masters.”

They watched until the dragon priest was defeated, and the women looted the priest of its weapons, mask, and then approached the wall. “Are all walls outside like the one here and the one in the Hinterlands?”

“No, only about a third of the walls have been on top of mountains or within dragon nests, the other two thirds are underground in ruins and barrows.”

“Can you sense them from a distance?”

“I can sense them, but I need to be within several hundred feet of them. Unfortunately, my clairvoyance spell does not work with the walls.” Solas looked faintly disappointed. “Ugh, this is one time I’d happily walk the seven thousand steps to go talk to the Greybeards…” Gwen gasped. “Solas, if it is possible for someone from my world was able to access the Fade as I have done, would an individual with great skill of meditation be able to do so?”

“Certainly. I do not always go to sleep for my travels but sink into a deep meditative state instead.”

“Great, I have an idea,” she said excitedly grabbing onto his wrist. The world blurred around them as it rushed by in a kaleidoscope of colours and textures; Solas glimpsed a river valley teeming with vegetation and plants he had never seen before, a fortress, a crumbling tower, a military encampment, a circular stand of stones all flashed by before they were climbing a mountain again. Shrines dotted the mountain side as it slid past his eyes until the world came to a halt again. They stood before a fortress hewn in dark grey stone. A double curving staircase swept from either side of where they stood before a small shrine littered with offering large and small. Solas twisted his wrist, breaking Gwen’s grip, and then wiggled his fingers to restore the feeling that was lost due to the pressure of her fingers. “Oh, sorry,” Gwen said sheepishly.

“Where are we, da'isenatha?”

“This is High Hrothgar, where the Greybeards reside. They are, priests of a sort, for lack of a better explanation, that study the Way of the Voice. They study the dragon language of the thu’um, the shouts, and have instructed me in their use.”

“And you thought you might be able to enlist their help?”

“They are well practiced in meditation and have directed me to walls before.”

“Ah,” Solas caught on. “Let us go see these mentors of yours.”

Gwen led Solas up the stairs and shoved open the huge doors to the monastery. Torches and braziers flickered and cast light up the walls of the stone building. Shadows danced within the alcoves making the carved reliefs of dragons appear to shift as they walked past them. From deep within the building, the sound of chanting could be heard echoing in a sonorous tone across the stone. One of the Greybeards knelt before the altar just inside the doorway; Gwen walked toward him to see if it was Arngeir, her mentor, but the figure flickered several times then vanished. “Come,” she waved to Solas to follow her, “we need to look around.” She led up some steps into a long corridor; ignoring the doors that led out to the upper courtyard, she proceeded into the depths of the building where she knew there were alcoves that the Greybeards used for meditation and study. She moved silently to the alcove Arngeir preferred, and was happy to see the old man kneeling there, head bowed, and hands tucked within his voluminous sleeves as he quietly chanted. She knelt beside him and crossed her hands in her lap, waiting until his chant came to a pause. “Arngeir, it is I, the Dragonborn. I am in need of your help.”

“Dragonborn, it has been many seasons since we saw you last. Since we received word of Alduin’s defeat.”

Gwen startled, “how long?”

“Five full turns.” Gwen stared at the man, taking in the changes in his face since she saw him last. _Five years_ _had passed. I’ve missed five years_.

Gwen took a shaky breath, “I’m helping another world that is in great danger. I’ve found a new word but don’t know how to find the others. Is there a way to detect where a wall is located?”

Arngeir looked at her thoughtfully for a few minutes, “I am unable to teach this to you. Perhaps Paarthurnax could assist you.”

“Thank you. Could I… could I make a request? Does Klimmek still bring you supplies each month?”

“Yes, he does. What is it you would request, Dragonborn?”

“Could you please pass along a message to my housecarl, Lydia in Whiterun. Tell my family that I love them and miss them, and for her to send the letters to my seconds; she will know where to find each of them.”

“I will ensure that message is passed to Klimmek.”

Gwen bowed her head, “thank you, Arngeir.” She stood up and walked down the hall. At the door to the outer courtyard, she placed her hand against the door frame and paused, letting her head hand down as she drew a long shuttering breath.

“Are you all right, da'isenatha?” Solas asked softly.

She nodded her head and then after a pause, shook it. “Did I do the right thing, Solas? My message, I mean. Am I wrong to take away their hope for my return knowing that I am still alive?”

“Are you certain you won’t?”

“I won’t in their lifetime. This war isn’t remotely over and in less that a year in Thedas, more than five have passed here. My daughters are young women now. Another year and ten will have passed there. They will be older than I am now and could have families of their own.” She pushed herself from the wall and gave herself a shake, “no, I won’t be returning.” She could grieve for what has been lost later; right now, she needed to talk to Paarthurnax.

She shoved the big stone doors open and stepped out onto the wind-swept courtyard. She looked around the courtyard briefly then headed through the stone archway to follow the path up the mountain. “Where are we going now?” Solas asked falling into step beside her.

“We are going to the Throat of the World to speak with Paarthurnax, who is the elder of the Greybeards. He may be able to help.” They hiked up the mountain until they came upon a plateau at the very top. A great word wall sat on the peak, and perched upon the wall was a great grey dragon. Gwen felt Solas gather his mana, she reached out and placed a hand on his arm and shook her head. “Zu’u koraav hi, Paarthurnax. Los hi pruzah?” she called to the dragon.

“Zu’u koraaz hi, Dovahkiin. No day goes by where I am not tempted to return to my inborn nature. Zin krif horvut se suleyk. What is better - to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort? The will to power is in our blood. You feel it in yourself, do you not?”

Gwen chuckled at the dragon’s constant philosophising, “that I do; now I direct that power to saving another world, but I need your help. I have found a word ‘ _Vokrii_ ’ and I seek the other two words, but I do not know where to look.”

“Krosis, that land has bein krasaar to need such as word. I cannot tell you where they are but can teach you the words to look: Siiv Golt Sik.”

“Siiv Golt Sik?”

“Yes, they will guide you.”

Gwen could feel a flicker in the back of her mind, the creeping sense of wakefulness. “My time is growing short. I don’t know if I’ll see you again, so thank you Paarthurnax.”

“Dovahkiin, dein hi wah fin wuth grohiik daar kriist naal hi,” the dragon warned Gwen, then with a powerful stroke of his wings took to the sky over the mountain top.

“Do you have what you need?” Solas asked.

“Yes, I think so,” she replied. She didn’t make eye contact with Solas as she tried to understand the dragon’s last message to her. She would have to ponder that one some other time; for now, she had, she hoped, a way to find the other Word Walls within Thedas.

“Good,” Solas nodded, turning her to face him. “Now it is time to wake up.”

Gwen bolted upright in her bed as the door to her quarters opened. Liesel walked in with a tray held in two hands as she used her hip to shove the door shut again. “You slept for so long, I was worried that you were going to miss breakfast, so I went and got a tray for us to share,” she said placing the tray on the bed as she sat on the end. Gwen sat there rubbing her arms. “Gwen, are you all right?”

“Hmm? Oh yes. Just a difficult night.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Liesel asked picking up a mug of tea and taking a sip.

Gwen shook her head as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat that suddenly threatened to choke her. “No, but I’m hopeful that I have something that will help us in our fight with Corypheus,” she said picking up her tea and wishing the cup contained something a bit stronger.

After breakfast, Gwen wandered down to the war room just in time for Max to finish his morning meeting with his advisors. “Is there something I can help you with Gwen?” Max asked her.

“I was hoping that I could take a look at the war table. It’s the only map I know of and I might have a way to find the other word walls.” Josephine excused herself, but both Leliana and Cullen hung back.

“Certainly, come in,” he waved her to the table.

“I’m not sure if this will work, but it’s something to try.” She walked over to the table and studied it for a moment. “ _Siiv Golt Sik_ ,” she shouted. At first nothing happened, but then the map appeared to ripple. Leliana gasped.

“I don’t see anything different,” Cullen commented as he studied it as well.

“Hmm, let me try something else,” Gwen said gathering her magicka and then casting her regular clairvoyance spell. The glow of the spell split into two smaller balls and skittered over the table. Once stopped to rest over a spot in the western part of Orlais by an area called the Western Approach. Leliana moved one of her markers to the area. The other energy ball had disappeared.

“Cast the spell again,” Max prompted her. Gwen cast the spell again. Again, one ball went to the now marked location in the Western Approach which they ignored to concentrate on the other ball which slid across the map of Ferelden. Instead of sitting on the map surface like the other ball, it sunk into the table and vanished. Leliana put a marker there.

“That doesn’t make any sense. Wait…” Max said then abruptly left the room.

“There isn’t anything in that location,” Cullen said as he and Leliana studied the location.

Max returned with Varric in tow. “Varric, do you know of anything in this location? Gwen thinks there might be one of those word walls in that location.” he asked pointing to Leliana’s marker.

“There? No – wait. There’s an entrance to a lyrium mine right there.”

Leliana arched a red brow, “it’s in the Deep Roads.”

“Well… shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gwen's seconds would be Brynjolf in the Thieves Guild, Nazir in the Dark Brotherhood, Vilkas in the Companions, and Mirabelle Ervine at the College of Winterhold - sort of headcanon, sort of not. :)  
> \--  
> Translations in case the HTML doesn't work:  
> Ma're vhalla, da'isenatha – you’re welcome, little dragon  
> Zu’u koraav hi, Paarthurnax. Los hi pruzah? - I see you, Paarthurnax. Are you well?  
> Zu’u koraav hi, Dovahkiin - I see you, Dragonborn  
> Zin krif horvut se suleyk – Honor is fighting the lure of power.  
> Krosis - sorrow  
> Bein Krasaar – foul sickness  
> Siiv Golt Sik - find place word  
> Dein hi wah fin wuth grohiik daar kriist naal hi - Dragonborn, guard you against the old wolf that stands with you


	24. At Least We're Not Orlesian

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you, thank you for your continued comments and kudos! I love hearing your thoughts and I *really* hope you enjoy this chapter.  
> PS: if you don't like smut, skip the last part of the chapter (after the second horizontal line)!

The Imperial court herald unrolled a scroll and announced in a loud voice, “and now presenting: Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, and accompanying him… Lord Maxwell of House Trevelyan. Vanquisher of the rebel mages of Ferelden, Crusher of the vile apostates of the mage underground! Champion of the Blessed Andraste herself!” Gaspard had walked forward and bowed to Celene, then stepped aside for Max to approach and make his obeisance to the Empress.

Gaspard laughed as Max moved off the dance floor, “did you see their faces? Priceless.”

The announcements of Max’s companions and advisors continued behind him, “accompanying the Inquisitor: Seeker Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena –“

Cassandra interrupted muttering, “get on with it!”

“ – Pentaghast. Fourteenth cousin to the King of Nevarra, nine times removed. Hero of Orlais, Right Hand of the Divine. The herald continued to introduce Varric, Dorian, Iron Bull, then Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine. There was a pause as the herald tried to regain his composure as Gwen glided down the steps to the dance floor for her introduction. The herald cleared his throat, “also accompanying the Inquisitor: Lady Gwenaëlle, the Dragonborn, Alduin’s Bane and Dragonslayer, Thane of all Skyrim, the Revered Peacemaker, and the Victorious Conqueror.”

Her hair was swept up in an elaborate style of twisted braids punctuated with hair sticks decorated with shining silver dragon heads that looked like the tops of the dragon priests’ staffs. The fabric of the dress was cleverly dyed so that it changed from black in the bodice to red as it proceeded down the skirts. The neckline draped gracefully over her torso and clasped at each shoulder under a spaulder of shining silver scales that linked across her upper back with more silver chain. The fabric of the dress draped exposing her back to the top of her hips then cascaded to the floor. Her arms and hands were bare except for the finger claws that Dagna had made of the same metal as the hair sticks and spaulders. She wore no mask, but instead wore the kohl powder swept over her eyes and temples as she did when she fought Bull in their sparring match a few scant weeks earlier. The final addition was a bit of blood red colouring on her lips. They had tried to get her to wear different jewelry, but Gwen refused to wear anything other than Rylen’s and Nera’s pendants.

A hush fell over the ballroom as Gwen glided forward silently as she approached the Empress. Behind her, she heard faint gasps and whispers as her tattooed back was revealed by the scandalous dip in her dress to those she passed. She exchanged pleasantries with the Empress and then moved off to start circulating among the other guests. She let herself glide through the crowds, not unlike when she thought about it, the terrifying finned, toothed monster she saw once in the waters when she travelled between Skyrim and Solstheim. People moved out of her way, like prey sensing a predator in their midst; others followed in her wake, carrion scavengers, picking up the pieces and taking any opportunity to address her when she stopped moving.

“Je parie que tu pourrais la baiser devant tout le monde. Elle te remercierait pour ça,” a noble said loudly to another standing next to him as she was walking past. A woman tittered behind her fan. Gwen didn’t fully understand what was being said but she didn’t need to, nor did the noble need to know that she didn’t, as she slowly turned her gaze towards him pushing a bit of the dragon forward to make her eyes glow momentarily. The woman gasped and the noble that made the statement went deathly pale and took a step back from under her gaze. She turned away and continued to move through the crowds, biting back the giggle as she did so.

Gwen found Dorian out in the garden. “You look like you’ve gathered quite a little entourage this evening,” he said looking back to where a cluster of nobles continued to mill around waiting for her to turn her attention back to them. “The women want to be you, the men want to have you, and they’re all just a little bit terrified of you.”

“Yes. It’s rather fun playing with them,” she said with a wicked grin as she told him about the previous little incident. Dorian pressed his lips together in disgust of the noble’s words, but didn’t translate them for her. “Don’t worry about it, Dorian. Care to dance?”

“Dancing with the evil magister, in full view of every noble in Orlais? How shocking! And how terribly brave of me.”

Gwen smiled, “you _like_ it.”

He chuckled, “if you can find me ten silk scarves, I’ve got a dance that will really shock them.” Dorian led her out onto the dance floor where they could speak more privately.

“Speaking of _having_ you – how is your relationship with the delicious Knight-Captain going?”

“It’s wonderful. He’s very romantic and considerate; he doesn’t want to rush me, but – ” she broke off as a blush rose on her cheeks.

Dorian smirked. “How you can pull off a dress like this and still blush as you are, is beyond me.” He sent her out in a graceful spin to the ends of their fingertips and then drew her back in. “Perhaps you need to give him a more obvious hint,” Dorian suggested.

“Like what, drop my clothes on the floor and tell him to ‘take me now’?” she asked almost sarcastically.

Dorian’s smile got bigger. “Well, that would certainly work for me.”

“I’ll be sure to inform the Iron Bull of that little tidbit.” Gwen eyes widened as a hint of a blush coloured Dorian’s cheeks. “Really?”

“Of course not! Do _not_ tell that blundering oaf such a thing,” he said indignantly making her giggle.

As the dance ended, Dorian escorted her off the floor. “I dare you to try that with Rylen,” he whispered before he headed off to assist Max, and she continued to circulate and be seen in the ballroom.

She continued to move around the room drifting in and out of the ballroom depending on where Max was at the time. She watched momentarily as Max led Florianne out onto the floor for a dance so headed over to where Bull was standing next to one of the buffet tables.

“Having fun, Bull?

Bull growled. “The nobles keep messing with me, and they think I don’t know they’re doing it; this keeps up, I’m going to wear somebody’s skull as _my fancy_ little mask.”

“Not enjoying yourself then?”

“Well… They’ve got these candied nuts with some kind of spice on them,” he held out a handful to her. “It’s sweet until you swallow, and then, BAM, hot!”

Behind her, a woman leaned towards a man and asked quietly, “do you think she really does breathe fire?”

A man tutted, “of course not. That would be ridiculous.”

Gwen smirked at Bull and took a couple of the candied nuts he offered. “Oooh, you’re right. Those do have a bit of heat to them,” she said as she let a curl of smoke loose. Bull grinned at her before she headed off with a laugh at the shocked noises behind her, and he headed off to rejoin Max as his dance with Florianne had ended.

* * *

Gwen stood at the far end of the ballroom from where the Empress stood at the balustrade to address her subjects. Around the room, she could see Inquisition members strategically located near doors and doorways. Within the crowd she could see several people dressed in harlequin costumes. She narrowed her eyes; there were too many harlequins to simply be entertainment… _Poor, poor Cicero_. They were assassins. She resisted tensing up and broadcasting her attention as she noticed one slowly approaching from her left. The Grand Duchess, Florianne, had stepped up next to the Empress and was addressing the crowd, but Gwen continued to surreptitiously watch as the harlequins moved through the crowd.

“… great change is coming for all of us, isn’t that right, Gaspard?” the Grand Duchess asked. Suddenly the crowd gasped as red bloomed across the front of the Empress’ dress from the dagger that Florianne had thrust through her body. Celene looked down, uncomprehending, to where her hands grasped at her abdomen. She jerked as the dagger was yanked out of her back, collapsing to her knees grasping futilely at the wound, and then she crumpled forwards, dead. Gaspard backed away looking shocked and bewildered by his sister’s actions.

From the crowd, a woman screamed. The nobles started to panic as the harlequins drew blades and started to slash at anyone unfortunate to be close by. Gwen heard Max call to Cullen to protect Gaspard and the guests as he raced out the door with his companions, in pursuit of the Grand Duchess. Gwen maintained the ruse that she was focused on the events below her as the harlequin moved in towards her; as the assassin raised their blade to attack her, she spun past him feeling the sting of the blade as it scored her arm even as she reached past his guard to dig the finger claws into his neck giving a good yank to open his throat as she moved behind him. She grabbed up the blades and turned to dispatch another harlequin that took the opportunity to attack her as she bent to retrieve the weapons. She saw an Inquisition soldier go down and felt a momentary flare of guilt at the relief she felt when she realized that it wasn’t Rylen. She sighed, there were too many civilians pressed around her to effectively guard against attacks especially since she had no armour. As she shouted to invoke the Dragon Aspect, the crowd around her flowed back away from her like a water rippling after a stone had been dropped into a pond. The ethereal dragon armour worked to her advantage; not only did it give her space as the nobles that had been crowding around backed away, but it also attracted the attention of the assassins from more vulnerable targets.

Two harlequins changed direction to come at her; she rushed forward to engage the first one exchanging a flurry of strikes before managing to slip a dagger between the ribs. The second harlequin rushed up behind her, Gwen dropped to a knee as she turned at the last moment to face the assassin driving both daggers up under the rib cage killing the harlequin instantly. Two arrows plinked against the spectral armour from a harlequin on the lower floor of the ballroom. Nobles parted from the assassin, so Gwen took the opportunity; she vaulted over the bannister and then shouted, “ _Fus Ro Dah_!” sending the assassin flying backwards. The assassin skidded across the marble floor on his ass stopping right in front of Cullen who didn’t hesitate to drive his sword down through the harlequin’s shoulder, killing him.

The fighting in the ballroom was over. Fighting could be heard from the courtyard for a few more minutes while the Inquisition soldiers secured the ballroom. Gwen, no longer needed to fight, did her best to assist with healing and tending wounds along with the arcane advisor, Morrigan, until the Inquisition mages were available again. A hand touched her arm above the cut she received earlier, “are you all right, lass?”

Gwen looked up in to the familiar blue eyes. She reached up and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, “yes, I’m fine. No injuries of consequence. You?”

His hand squeezed back, “I’m fine.” He moved on to check in with the soldiers and Cullen.

Several nobles, even ones that had looked at her with disdain earlier in the night, stopped by and thanked her for her actions. Max returned bloody but uninjured himself with the rest of his companions; Florianne was dead and Corypheus’ plot to control Orlais was dead with her. Gaspard was Emperor with the elven ambassador, Briala, pulling strings from the background. Gwen worried about what the future could hold for Ferelden with a warmonger like Gaspard as a neighbour but that was a fight for another day; right now, they needed a strong military mind to assist the Inquisition against Corypheus’ forces wherever they were.

* * *

Gwen excused herself from the rest of the group and retired to her room in the guest wing of the estate. The others would stay up later drinking and whatnot, but she had had enough for one night. She sat down and stripped the remaining finger claws from her hands and dropped them on the dressing table, then wiped away the kohl from her face. Leaning over, she unwound the ribbons that held her shoes on when there was a knock at the door. Barefoot, she padded across the marble floor and opened the door.

“Would you care to share a drink before you retire, lass?” Rylen asked showing her the bottle and two glasses he carried. Gwen stepped aside and waved him into her room, closing her door she caught sight of Dorian who threw her a wink before he disappeared into his own room down the hall. She followed Rylen into the room. As he set the glasses down on a table and poured them drinks, she pulled the hair sticks out and tossed them onto the dressing table, and gave her head a shake to let her hair tumble down.

Rylen turned around and offered her a glass, hooded eyes traced her form from head to toe as she took a sip of the offered drink. “Maker’s breath, you were absolutely stunning tonight. I can’t tell you the number of times I saw those Orlesians stare at you with lust in their eyes, and all I wanted to do was hit them until they had to look away.”

Gwen took a languid step closer to Rylen, letting her hips sway as the she did placing her hand against his chest feeling the heat of him, “is that all you wanted to do?”

“Void take me,” he growled. “I wanted to mark you in front of the entire court, so they would know that you are mine.” He took the glass from her hand and set both down with a solid thunk on the table, then grasped her behind the neck pulling her closer towards him. His mouth slanted over hers demanding she submit; he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him, his arousal pressed against the softness of her belly. He fisted his hand in her hair to control the kiss, his tongue sweeping along her lips to coax her open to him, then to plunder her mouth tasting her. Gwen moaned as the flood of sensations sent heat spiralling to her core, her fingers fisted in the front of his shirt to keep herself standing as she felt her knees wobble.

“You are sorely testing my restraint, mo ghràdh,” he said resting his forehead against hers as he sucked in his breath to try to rein in his slipping control. “I don’t want to rush you into something you’re not ready for.” He pulled back slightly so he could look at her, brushing strands of hair from her face back behind her ears; her eyes were blown wide with lust, looking a little wild.

“Do I seem unready?” Gwen asked quietly, taking her hands from his shirt to slip the hooks open under the spaulder on each shoulder and let the dress slip from her grasp to pool on the floor at her feet. Rylen sucked in a sharp breath and went utterly still as his gaze raked down her now bared body. Her pale skin was criss-crossed with fine, and some not-so-fine, scars including some new nicks from that evening, but he couldn’t think of anything he’d found more beautiful. “Rylen?”

Something in him; his resolve, his patience, snapped at the soft sound of his name on her lips. He exhaled noisily and pulled her back in for a hungry kiss, as he ran his hand down her back and wrapped his fingers around an ass cheek giving it a squeeze. Gwen squeaked in surprise, she rose up on her toes leaning into him. He immediately stepped into her and drove her back towards the bed. She stopped as her knees hit the mattress preventing her from moving any further; with a smirk Rylen gave her a gentle shove tipping her onto the bed. Gwen giggled as she scooted up the bed, her giggle cut off abruptly under the intensity of Rylen’s gaze as he whipped his shirt over his head and then crawled up the bed after her. He covered her body with his resting his weight on his elbows, “are you sure?”

“Yes, I want this – I want you, Rylen.”

“I want you too,” Rylen said dipping his head to kiss her again. He shifted to lie beside her as he kissed her, stroking his hand down her throat and across her collarbones. He followed his hand kissing, licking, and nipping her flesh as he stroked over her skin. He smiled as Gwen gasped when he cupped a breast and gently rubbed his thumb over the peak. He focused on one breast drawing the nipple between his lips to give it a tug making her arch against him before he moved the other giving it the same treatment.

Gwen laced her fingers into his hair as he ghosted his lips and fingers down over her ribs and belly. She sucked in a sharp breath when he gave her hipbone a firm nip with his teeth. He looked up at her catching her gaze as he trailed his fingertips through her curls. She unconsciously shifted her legs parting them slightly; Rylen glanced down and took advantage over her movement to stroke a finger over her flesh. She was wet. He nudged her legs open and moved to lie between them; he caught her gaze once more and then dropped her mouth to her flesh. At the first touch of his tongue, she bucked against him with a squeal; he hummed with pleasure, the sensation vibrated through her very bones. Rylen clamped his hands over her thighs holding her in place as he placed a slow lick the length of her slit. Slowly he built the fire within her belly; teasing and tasting until she was writhing in his grasp; he couldn’t help the thrust of his own hips against the bed seeking friction for his trapped cock. He coaxed her towards her peak sucking gently on her clit only to back over just before she tipped over the edge. He did this several times until she was whining, begging him for her release. He slid a finger within her groaning how tight she was and the thought of how she’d feel when he buried himself within her; as she relaxed around the single digit, he slid it deeper until he brushed the barrier within. He withdrew slightly and added another, gently scissoring his fingers to ready her for him.

“Please Rylen,” Gwen begged thrashing her head against the bed, and arching her hips in an attempt to impale herself on his fingers. Finally, he relented sucking hard on her clit as he curled his fingers within her. Gwen threw her head back and screamed as her orgasm crashed over her, her vision blurring as everything went white behind her eyelids.

As Gwen regained her senses, Rylen shucked off his pants giving himself a couple strokes with his hand smearing pre-cum over the head of his cock before he settled between her thighs once more. He pulled her legs up around his hips as he rubbed against her, spreading her slick along his length before resting the head at her entrance. He lay still over her and brushed the tendrils of hair that stuck to her face, “open your eyes, lass.” Eyelashes fluttered for a moment, then Gwen stared up into Rylen’s eyes; the blue of his nearly swallowed by pupils blown wide with desire. “There you are, mo ghràdh,” he smiled kissing her nose. “We can still stop if you want.”

She shook her head, “no, don’t stop.” She twined her fingers through his hair and pulled him down for another kiss as he slowly slid into her.

Pulling away from her lips as he felt himself nudge at the barrier, he lifted his head, “look at me.” Pale eyes focused on him and with a sharp snap of his hips he breached her maidenhead and buried himself to the hilt.

Gwen cried out, tightening her fingers in Rylen’s hair in surprise; he let out a growl and peppered her bared throat with kisses and nips, blending the pain with a new flush of pleasure. Gwen could feel him tremble as he restrained himself from moving, allowing her to adjust to his size within her; she gave an experimental flex of her pelvis and gasped at the delicious friction within her.

Taking her cue, Rylen started to move with slow deliberate movements nearly pulling all the way out before sinking back in. Finding the rhythm, Gwen pulled her knees higher and wrapped her legs around Rylen’s back letting him thrust deeper with the new angle. He felt her walls flutter around him as her orgasm approached, nails scored his back as she thrashed below him, chanting wordless pleas. “Sing my name, lass. Let me hear you,” he said reaching between them to stroke her clit.

Gwen threw her head back and screamed his name as she shattered around him, her walls clenching around his cock encouraging him to spend himself. Rylen sped up and with a couple rough snaps of his hips, buried himself within her with a groan as he found his release and collapsed against her.

Rylen regained his senses to find Gwen studying his face as she traced her fingers across his brow. “Hi,” she said softly. Rylen grinned at her. Gwen smiled back, “as much as I want to stay here like this; you’re getting a little heavy.”

“Sorry lass.” He wrapped his arms around her and rolled them both, so she was sprawled over the top of him.

She propped her chin on her overlapped hands resting on his chest, “was this how you thought tonight would go?”

Rylen chuckled, “I did not expect you to seduce me, but I’m certainly not going to complain.”

She giggled. “Me neither. Will you stay the night?”

“Do you want me to?”

“Yes, please do.” She shifted and curled up against his side, satisfied and content, as sleep overtook them both.

When Gwen woke in the morning, Rylen had already left to check with the Inquisition forces that were on duty at the estate that were using while in Halamshiral. She slipped on a shift and a silk housecoat that had been included in her wardrobe, and made her way down to the dining room. The estate was silent except for some small sounds of cutlery; most of the inner circle were still in their own quarters, but she did find Bull, Blackwall, and Sera already breaking their fast.

“Have a good night?” Bull asked with a sly grin.

“Mmhmm,” she replied going to the sideboard to fill a plate with some fruit.

“And how about you, big guy? Get any sleep last night?” Gwen whirled around to see a very rumpled Dorian wander into the room. Dorian ignored Bull’s question and went over to the sideboard where Gwen was studiously pouring herself some tea.

“Here, add a bit of this to your tea,” he whispered handing her a small glass vial. When she looked at him quizzically, he replied, “it’s a preventative. Thought you might not have any. Got it from one of the other ladies.”

“Thank you.”

“So… did you, or did he?”

Gwen gave him a coy little smile, “I dropped my clothing.”

“Ha!” Dorian threw back his head and laughed. “Good for you, love. Poor man didn’t stand a chance.”

“Who didn’t stand a chance?” Max asked strolling in the room barefoot with his hair was sticking up in all directions as he ran his fingers through it making it worse.

“Rylen,” Bull replied.

Max blew a raspberry, “well we all _heard_ that.”

Gwen knew she was blushing, it couldn’t be helped, but she could either wish for an Oblivion gate to open below her feet or she could own it. She crossed her arms and stared them down one by one, “anything else you want to know?”

Bull was just about to open his mouth to ask a question when Rylen walked in. Bull watched the two of them gaze at each other; he smirked and asked, “so inquiring minds want to know: Dragon or Rylen.”

Rylen quirked an eyebrow at her, with his silent challenge.

Gwen smiled at him, “definitely Rylen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Je parie que vous pourriez la foutre devant tout le monde. Elle te remercierait pour ça - I bet that you could fuck her in front of everyone. She'd thank you for it. (If anyone has a better French translation for that line, I'd be happy to have it. I don't think it's totally - or perhaps remotely - right.)  
> mo ghràdh - my love


	25. Crestwood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shorter chapter to set a few things up but there are some visitors!

After the assassination of Empress Celene, everyone was on high alert around Skyhold watching to see if Corypheus or even any of the Empress’ allies would retaliate. The tension got worse after the potential alliance between the Qunari and the Inquisition fell through with a destruction of the dreadnought, the subsequent attempt on Bull’s life by the Ben-Hassrath, and the warning from the House of Repose that there was a contract out on Josephine’s life.

Gwen sat in her usual spot on the wall watching the soldiers run through their morning training routine as she often did but she scanned the walls and watched for deviations from the normal activities of the fortress. She remained hidden in the shadows but blue eyes from the courtyard unfailingly found her own pale gaze. “You know that it’s not a secret any more; you _can_ sit out where you can be seen and ogle the men?”

“Habit. I’m used to sticking to the shadows, Dorian.” The mage took out a handkerchief flicking it against the stones before sitting down beside her. “Besides, the only ones that need to see me know where to find me.”

“Does that include me?” he teased.

Gwen looked at him and smirked, “that depends. Did you bring something good to drink?”

The mage laughed, “have I ever failed to provide?” He pulled out a bottle of Antivan red from under his cloak with a flourish. They passed the bottle back and forth as they admired the muscle being exerted in the yard below.

“So…” Gwen started. “How’d Bull doing after the whole failed alliance, attempt to kill him thing?”

“How should I know?”

Gwen levelled him a look. “I may not be a spy, but I see enough to know that there is _something_ going on between you two even if it’s just in the fledgling stage.” Dorian frowned in thought as to what could have given it away. “Don’t worry, I don’t think many people are aware that the hostility between you has subtly altered,” she said with a little smile.

“I shouldn’t have known that you would figure it out,” he sighed. “He’s not taking it well. Perhaps you could go beat on him with your swords; that seems to make him happy.”

She snorted on a laugh, “maybe I’ll offer later.” She glanced across the walls of the fortress and noticed two figures; one tall and dark-haired human, the other slighter build typical of an elf with a shock of white hair, pacing along the top of the ramparts high above the tavern. _Odd. Didn’t think we were expecting company._ She got up slowly from her shadowed perch and pulled her cloak around herself.

“What is it?” Dorian asked narrowing his eyes at her sudden tension.

“Something is going on, Dorian. I’m going to investigate,” she said patting him on the shoulder telling him wordlessly to remain where he was. She pulled her dark cloak closer around herself to hide her light-coloured tunic, and hurried along the ramparts staying close to the shadows. The two men were quietly discussing something between them staying back away from the edge of the ramparts, hidden from view from anyone in the courtyard. She was unable to get any closer to them to hear what they were saying without being seen so she invoked the Nightingale Shadow rendering herself invisible for a few minutes as she silently passed along the wall behind them and scaled the tower that overlooked their location. Dropping over the crenulations of the tower, she became visible again but out of view of the men below her while still being within earshot.

“I don’t know why we have to involved these… There are so many mages here it’s a disaster waiting to happen,” the deep voice growled in disgust. Gwen bit back a snort of laughter; how could he say such a thing standing in front of a man carrying a staff?

“Varric said they could be trusted. And I trust Varric,” the other man said patiently. It was obvious to Gwen that they had had this argument before. She relaxed slightly; if they were friends of Varric then it wasn’t likely that they had come to cause any harm. Before she could move away from her hiding spot, the door to the tower she rested on opened revealing Varric and Max.

“Inquisitor, meet Hawke. The Champion of Kirkwall,” he introduced Max to the dark-haired man.

“Though I don’t use that title much anymore. Inquisitor, this is my… companion, Fenris.” They men exchanged pleasantries.

“I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus for the Inquisitor, Hawke. You and I did fight him, after all,” Varric said before strolling to the other side of the tower letting the two men talk. Fenris, eyed Max suspiciously for a moment, then joined Varric.

Gwen listened for a few minutes as they discussed Corypheus and something about missing Wardens. She had a little peak over the wall from her hiding spot; Varric’s eyes widened as she made eye contact with him. He silently raised an eyebrow as if to ask why she was there, she gave her head a slight tip as if to shrug, and smirked at him. Suddenly Fenris spotted the movement and wordlessly growled as his hand rose to his great sword. Max and Hawke stopped talking to stare at Fenris, and then looked around to see what had the elf on alert. Varric sighed, “you might as well come out, Rosy.” Gwen hopped over the wall and dropped onto the rampart below.

Max looked annoyed, “what were you doing up there? This was supposed to be a secret meeting.”

Gwen shrugged, unperturbed by his anger, “I spotted two unknown people loitering in a place that strangers to the keep do not usually linger. Considering recent events, I investigated. Before I could leave to report their presence, you showed up, so I stayed in case there was a problem or threat.”

Max’s stance softened, “I appreciate it, but there is no danger here.” Gwen nodded and then with a brief cool look over Hawke and Fenris that said much without saying anything at all, she casually stepped off the ramparts dropping the three stories to the bailey below them. Skyhold, as usual, caught her descent.

Hawke leaned over the ramparts and saw the woman walk away across the courtyard. “That was – ”

“That was the Dragonborn,” Max replied.

“ _That_ was the Dragonborn that we’ve been hearing about? She doesn’t look like much, thought she’d be bigger,” Fenris said scornfully.

“Broody, just don’t challenge her to a sparring match. She wiped the floor with the last person that challenged her.”

“Who was that?” Hawke asked curiously.

“Him,” Varric pointed to down in the yard as Bull pulverized a training dummy into so much kindling with a swing of his great axe.

* * *

Crestwood stank of stagnant water, mould, mildew, rotting vegetation, and rotting flesh. All in all, it was a charming place to visit if you were an undead duck, or perhaps an Argonian. The group rode into the camp and were all to happy to see Scout Harding’s scouts ready with hot meals and beverages. Liesel’s enthusiasm at finally joining Gwen out of Skyhold was starting to wane with the constant deluge they rode through for the last two days, but she dutifully looked after their supplies as she had sworn to do.

Max sat down at the fire with a bowl of stew to join the rest after debriefing with Lace Harding. “So boss, what’s the situation?” Bull asked refilling his bowl.

“There’s a rift out in the middle of the lake; after it appeared, the dead started walking out of the lake. We’ll have to find a way through the undead to get to the cave where Hawke’s Grey Warden friend is hiding.”

“So we need to find a way to get to the rift in the lake,” Cassandra said.

“Swimming,” offered Bull. Cassandra made a disgusted noise.

“You’re volunteering?” Gwen asked with a smirk.

“Nah, I sink.”

“Maybe you could walk, and Max could just stand on your shoulders.”

Max chuckled. “Be that as it may, hopefully the villagers can shed some light on how to get to the rift. We’ll deal with that first then get to Hawke’s friend.” Cassandra and Hawke both nodded in agreement. “Oh, and you’ll like this one Gwen, Bull; there’s been a dragon sighted.”

“I was wondering why you dragged me out here,” Gwen quipped. “Although I’d really like to request that next time you take me somewhere _dry_ and _warm_.”

“Oooh, I’d like to put in that request as well,” Dorian added as water dripped off the edge of him mustache.

“Let’s get to the village; the sooner we deal with the rift and undead, the sooner we can have our meeting and get out of here,” Max said.

Gwen headed out to scout the road and pick off any undead she could as she moved before the group. “What is with the elf following the Dragonborn? Is she a slave?” Fenris asked Varric quietly, noticing that of Max’s companions, Gwen was the only one with another follower.

“Who? The Dalish elf? Gwen had taken Liesel’s friend, Nera, under her wing when she arrived here. Nera was kind of like Daisy – not the blood mage part - but a sweet, timid little elf mage; she died when Haven fell,” he said sadly. “Liesel pledged herself into Gwen’s service afterwards much to everyone’s surprise. Liesel reminds me a lot of you, actually,” he added unable to resist a dig at the glowering elf.

“She’s free?”

“Yes. Gwen looks after her as much as Liesel serves her.”

Gwen looked over her shoulder at the elf and dwarf, and called back, “anyone that harms a hair on her head will be fed their own entrails.” Varric smirked at her protective nature.

They walked around the bend and found two Grey Wardens defending a couple of townsfolk from a swarm of undead. They jumped in and quickly dispatched the undead. “The Grey Wardens thank you for your aid, Inquisitor.”

Max walked up, wiping off his sword. “What are you doing in Crestwood?”

“A Warden gone rogue is wanted for questioning. We heard he’s passed through here, but the villagers knew nothing. They have troubles enough,” the Warden fighter replied.

“What have you been told about this rogue Warden?”

“Warden-Commander Clarel ordered his capture. I can say no more than that. I hope Ser – ” the Warden hesitated. “I hope he comes with us peacefully. I trained under him for a time. He’s a good man. I’m sure of that.”

“Will you stay to fight the undead here?” Cassandra stepped up beside Max to ask.

“My orders forbid it. Crestwood was only a detour. If the Inquisition can help, I beg you to do what you can. The villagers have already lost too many.”

“We’ll do what we can.” Max bid them farewell and they stood around as the Wardens headed down the road. “We’ll stick with the plan to deal with the undead and rift before we go find Hawke’s friend, just in case those two Wardens aren’t alone or gone from the area. I’d hate to lead them to our Warden contact.”

They headed into the village and spoke with the mayor, then headed into the countryside to deal with undead. Everyone agreed that the mayor was hiding something; they just weren’t sure what it was but the place to start with dealing with the problem with the rift and the undead was to be found in the local keep, Caer Bronach. They found that the only way in was through a single access point. “Shall we knock,” Max asked. “Like with an axe?”

“Oh, yeah!” Bull unhooked his axe before giving a roar and slamming it into the wood. Two more swings and the gates broke open and they were rushed by the bandits and their Mabari hounds. They were out numbered but Gwen and Varric picking off other archers, Dorian and Hawke controlling the battle with walls of ice, fire balls, and barriers on the fighters, and they gained control of the keep with only minor injuries. After searching the keep from top to bottom, they still hadn’t found the controls for the dam to lower the water in the lake to get at the rift.

“Is that my imagination but is there a tavern out there on the dam?” Varric asked.

“Seeing that we haven’t found the dam controls yet, I think we need to investigate,” Max replied.

“Hopefully, there will be some beverages, too,” Hawke drawled.

Gwen stayed out on the causeway of between the keep and the tavern with Bull to watch for any more bandits that might be lying in wait below the keep. They were surprised when a couple of teenagers hustled out of the tavern looking embarrassed and self-conscious after being flushed out by the others. Bull and Gwen looked at each other and grinned. The stones of the causeway vibrated as the water gates shifted deep within the stone, and then there was a rumbling roar as the water rushed through from the lake to the valley below. As the water flowing from the lake, a deafening screech rolled up from the valley floor as the resident dragon took off from her disturbed nest and flew overhead.

“Well,” Max said as he exited the tavern, “I guess you’ll want to go and take care of that?” He looked at Gwen, who had a grin on her face, and then at Bull, who was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet with excitement.

“This totally makes up for dragging me to another draugr infested swamp,” Gwen said.

“You’re the best, boss!”

“Let’s go then,” he said, shooing them forward with his hands like sending children into a candy shop. Gwen grabbed him by a pauldron pulling him down slightly and kissed him on the cheek, then dashed off back through the keep with Bull hot on her heels.

“I’m not sure which one of them is more excited,” Varric chuckled. “Hawke, Broody – you’re gonna want to see this.”

They quickly followed to join the other two out on the open ground by a ruined tower that was crumbling over the cliffs. The dragon perched up on the tower and screamed at the group assembled below it. It reared its head back and spat a crackling ball of lightening that had the group splitting to get out of the way.

The dragon took to the air, flying over the group and then circled back to blast them with lightening again. Gwen tracked the dragon and soon as it was in range shouted, “ _Joor Zah Frul!”_ The dragon’s flight stuttered under the power of her shout and crashed to the ground. “ _Fo Krah Diin!_ ” she shouted at the dragon. Cold winds whipped up lashing the dragon with snow and ice like the harshest blizzard, fouling the dragon’s wings preventing it from taking flight again. Bull roared and rushed in slamming his axe against the dragon’s foreleg. Gwen felt a barrier drop over her; it felt different than any she had felt before and realized that it must have from Hawke. She dashed in hacking and slashing with her two swords on the other side from Bull splitting the dragon’s focus.

The dragon reared up onto it’s hind legs and Gwen yelled for everyone to get away right before the dragon screamed tried to stun them. Most of them got far enough away that while rattled a bit from the noise, they weren’t in any danger from the dragon’s next attack; the dragon flapped its wings in an attempt to drag them back into range. The mages and Varric were safe from the pull tucked behind broken walls as they were. Cassandra, Max, and Bull were familiar enough with fighting with Gwen to move away when she told them to and were outside of the effected area. Fenris was not. Gwen spotted the elf being pulled in toward the dragon; without any other targets, the elf was going to get chomped. She stepped within the pull of the wings hurrying towards Fenris while trying to dodge flying debris. She didn’t want to call on the Dragon Aspect too soon as she wanted to make sure she got the dragon’s attention but still had enough time to keep the dragon distracted while taking all the damage without getting herself killed. As she neared the dragon, she shouted again calling on the ethereal armour.

The dragon whipped its head around, interrupting its strike on Fenris. “Hi los Dovahkiin? Nii nis kos!”

“Zu’u los. Hin viik los ni filok!” Gwen shouted back at the dragon as she blocked its snapping jaws. “Now Bull!” Bull took the opportunity and rushed in slamming his great axe into the neck of the dragon, once, twice, then the dragon collapsed. Gwen heard a gasp behind her as tendrils of the dragon’s soul emerged from the corpse and swirled around her before plunging into her chest. She gasped and rolled her shoulders adjusting to the sensation of yet another dragon soul contained within her.

“Hey! That was my kill,” Bull complained.

“Yeah? And you killed it, but it doesn’t matter who kills it; if I’m close by the soul comes to me.”

“You’re an _abomination_ ,” the elf spat.

“Broody…” Varric warned. “It’s not what you think.”

Gwen shrugged, “it’s fine Varric. According to the definitions of magic in your world, I am an abomination.” She wiped off her blades and sheathed them, and turned to the glowering elf, “you’re welcome, by the way.” She turned away and addressed Max, “are we heading back to camp now?” Max nodded.

As they returned to camp; Gwen spotted a scout speaking with Liesel. The scout turned and looked at Gwen then hurried over. “I've been looking for you. Got something I'm supposed to deliver - your hands only.”

Gwen nodded, dismissing the scout, and wandered over to the edge of the camp as she unrolled the delivered parchment. “Anything important?” Max asked quietly, stepping up beside her.

“It’s from Leliana,” she replied handing the parchment to Max. “She has a solid lead on the House of Repose; said you would know what it was about. She wants me to head to Val Royeaux immediately to take care of it.”

“She’s sending you?” Max’s eyes widened. “Why you?”

Gwen flicked her gaze at him, “she didn’t tell you. Not only am I a master thief but also a skilled assassin with high profile targets to my credit. That’s why she’s sending me.”

“How high profile?”

“An emperor…”

His brows shot up, then he shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. You’re not going on your own?”

“Liesel will accompany me and report back if I don’t return, but otherwise, yes, I’m going in on my own.”

“No, not you,” he vehemently denied.

Gwen turned to him and place her hand on his arm, “yes Max, me. This was the course of action you and Leliana agreed upon once you had the information you needed to proceed. _Who_ was to execute it didn’t matter until you found out that it was me. I can do this without losing additional Inquisition agents.”

“But…”

“No buts. I’ll look after this, and you look after getting the information you need from Hawke’s friend.” She patted him on the arm. “Have some faith, _Herald_.”

He growled in frustration, but nodded his head. “Fine. But be careful and I’ll see you in Skyhold. I expect to hear the whole story about the emperor on your return.”

“Deal,” she grinned. He gave her a quick hug then let her go. Striding to the tent she called out, “Liesel, grab our stuff. We have another job to do and I want to get a head start while we still have light.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:   
> Hi los Dovahkiin? Nii nis kos! - You are dragonborn? it cannot be  
> Zu’u los. Hin viik los ni filok - I am. Your defeat is [inescapable]


	26. Of Assassins and Thieves

Val Royeaux was unlike any city Gwen had ever seen. She loved Solitude with it’s shiny dark stone, plants, and palace, and Markarth was impressive with its imposing dwemer towers and architecture, but both were pitiful compared to the over-the-top splendor on display in Val Royeaux. She and Liesel had left their horses at an inn north of the town of Lydes and took a ship across the Waking Sea to their destination. The docks were lined with great marble slabs under their feet, and detailed carved statues glittering with gold. Under the statues were little plaques, Gwen and Liesel started giggling as they read, which got them some strange looks and disdainful sniffs from some of the passing residents of the city. “Orlesians are weird,” Gwen giggled. She linked her arm through Liesel’s, “first thing first, we’re going to go find ourselves some of those frilly cakes that Leliana keeps going on about, and we’re going to get you a mask.”

“A mask? What for?” Liesel said defensively, stiffening under Gwen’s hand.

“Because my dear friend, when you’re on jobs with me some extra discretion may be required. It would be better if no one could trace us back to the Inquisition, and hiding that you are a Dalish elf bearing the vallaslin of Ghilan'nain would help in that regard.” Gwen stopped and pulled her aside. “Look, I wouldn’t hide that you’re an elf; you know that I wouldn’t do that. I’m not trying to hide you out of shame or anything like that, but if we obscure any distinguishing features such as your vallaslin which makes you stand out from other elves within the city, it can only help protect you. I have a mask as well so I’m not singling you out. Do you understand?” Liesel nodded. “Good. Let’s go.”

They wandered around the market admiring the trinkets, cosmetics and perfumes, fabrics, and food stuffs. Gwen couldn’t resist purchasing a small pendant made of bronze that looked like a small dragon chasing its tail; it would be a perfect little gift for Rylen. They also found a simple black leather mask that effectively covered Liesel’s vallaslin while still permitting her full range of view. After doing their shopping, they sat down in the café located off the Summer Bazaar to people watch while they enjoyed some of the famed frilly cakes. They strolled around the market once more then out into other areas of Val Royeaux. The White Spire soared above the street, the magically lit beacon at the top casting a bright light in the fading daylight. At the University, scholars hurried in and out of the buildings with servants loaded down with armfuls of scrolls, books, and paraphernalia scrambling behind them. She also spotted the estate building that Leliana had indicated was the location for the House of Repose.

“Liesel, when we were wandering around, did you notice any symbols scratched into the painted wood and stonework around the various shops and buildings?”

“I did but I don’t recognize any of them. What do you think they mean?”

“They look like shadowmarks; I think there is a thieves’ guild operating in Val Royeaux. Come on, we’re heading to the poor district to find somewhere to stay for the night.”

“Why would you want to stay there instead of one of the nicer inns?” Liesel asked.

“We’re going to take a page from Sera’s book and mingle with the little people. We’re far more likely to hear gossip from those that get stepped on by the higher-ups than the higher-ups themselves. Put on your old cloak so we don’t look so out of place,” Gwen said pulling out a dull blue cloak with threadbare edges and stuffed her finer cloak into her pack.

They found a run-down tavern and inn that was doing busy trade for the evening serving both elves and humans; the tavern keeper waved them to a table and sent over a girl to take their order. Gwen sat with her back to the wall. She couldn’t see the whole room but had a view of the one door and the bar, so it would have to suffice. The girl returned with a bowl of stew, a chunk of bread, and a tankard of mead for each of them. Gwen repressed the desire to curl up her lip at the grey stew that sat before her. Liesel hesitated so Gwen ripped a chunk of bread and dipped it into her own bowl suppressing the question as to what the greasy blob floating in the middle could be, and ate.

As they ate, Gwen scanned the room from below lowered eyes. A few occupants had noticed and commented about their presence, but the interest didn’t linger. She overheard one conversation regarding a merchant by the name of Ponchard de Lieux looking to use a Pavus amulet to gain entrance to the Celestine League. She made a note of the men to find out more information as she only knew of one Pavus; it couldn’t have been a coincidence. She let her gaze slide away to a twitchy man that caught her attention. He looked nervous, bouncing his knee and chewing on a thumbnail, before he’d make himself still but the movement crept back in. He was trying to watch the room without being seen to watch the room. Gwen smiled to herself, he was a footpad at best and was looking for his next mark. “Liesel, how much do you have in your coin purse?”

“Um, a couple coppers, and a silver or two. Why?”

“I need you to go to the bar and get us another round of drinks. Wait for the drinks, and then come right back to the table.”

She hesitated for a second then got up, “all right.” Gwen watched as the thief’s gaze followed Liesel to the bar. She nearly laughed aloud as he got up from his own seat and threaded through the tables to brush past Liesel on his way out.

“Is your coin purse missing?” Gwen asked with a smile. Liesel looked down at her belt, then at Gwen, shocked. “Take our packs and the drinks to our room and bar the door. I will be back soon.”

She grabbed her good cloak, threw it over her arm and headed out the door. She ducked into the shadows outside of the inn and put the cloak on pulling the hood up over her hair and put her mask on. Looking down the dark street, she spotted the fledgling thief. Shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet, she moved silently and stayed close to the shadows, it felt _good_ to return to old habits. She followed the thief to a rickety door at the bottom of what looked to be a warehouse. She noticed a shadowmark scratching into the plaster next to the door; it was different than what she was familiar, but she didn’t doubt that the mark indicated an entrance to wherever the guild housed itself. Easing the door open carefully to prevent any noise, she slipped in and closed the door silently behind her. She could hear the thief moving ahead of her. He wasn’t trying very hard to muffle his steps so he either really wasn’t that good or he wasn’t expecting any danger. The passageway headed down, the stones became damp with condensation and slick with moss. From below her, she could smell sewage but fortunately it was muted by the constant flow of water pushing the waste out into the sea. For a moment, she felt an almost overwhelming pang of homesickness; she missed the cistern under Riften, the Ragged Flagon, and all it had come to mean to her. She gave herself a mental shake and continued to follow the thief. She rounded the corner and saw him crouch down in front of a door. Gwen pressed herself against the wall in the darkest shadow she could to wait for the thief to either proceed forwards or return towards her. She waited. And waited. She heard a sharp _ping!_ as the lockpick snapped. She rolled her eyes; surely, she was never this bad.

“Maker blast this blighted fucking lock,” the thief muttered to himself as he rummaged through his pockets for another pick.

Gwen glided up silently behind the thief and held a pick over his shoulder, “here, try this one.”

“Thank you –” the thief startled badly. Gwen placed her hand heavily on his shoulder keeping him on his knees before the door.

“What are you breaking into?” she asked quietly.

The thief sighed, “this was supposed to be a final test to get accepted into the guild.”

“The guild is beyond this door?”

“Yes.”

“Well try the lock again.” The thief hesitated then slid the lockpicks back into the lock. “Close your eyes and feel for the tumblers. Feel where the resistance starts and back off slightly, shift the pick to a different angle. Then rotate again.” The pick appeared momentarily stuck and he gave it a hard wiggle. “Gently,” she chided him. “Tiny increments. Lockpicking requires finesse and patience.”

He gave another wiggle and the pick snapped. “I’m never going to get this,” he groaned letting his head rest against the door.

Gwen folded her arms across her chest and looked at him, “why are you trying to get into the thieves’ guild?”

“I don’t know what else to do. I want to apprentice with the blacksmith, but he doesn’t like elves. I…” he shrugged and trailed off.

“What is your name?”

“Feylhen.”

“Are you serious about wanting to become a smith? Why not join the Inquisition and apprentice there? Surely with the war they’d need as many people as they could get their hands on.”

“Yes, more than anything! I… I thought about going to the Inquisition but I’ve never been out of the Alienage. I don’t know how to get to them.”

Gwen sighed and muttered to herself, “Varric’s going to say something about me collecting stray puppies.” Feylhen gave her a quizzical look but she waved her hand at him. “I can help you get to the Inquisition, if that’s what you want, but first, I need to go to the guild.”

“Thank you! Uh,” he said bashfully holding out the broken picks.

Gwen pulled another set of picks out of her pockets and crouched before the lock. With a deft little wiggle and a turn, the lock opened.

Feylhen looked at her a little stunned, “how?”

“Sometimes turning the lock in the opposite direction to what you expect is effective.” She handed him the picks and indicated for him to proceed her through the door.

“Ah it’s the petit voleur. You finally…” a sarcastic voice rang out then stopped when Gwen stepped out of the shadows from behind Feylhen. “And just who are you?”

“I walk with the shadows. I come seeking information from my brethren,” Gwen said formally. “You can call me Eostig.” She scanned the room quickly noticing the five other people in the room besides the one that addressed her. There was a bar set up alongside one wall with a door behind it, probably to a store room, and another door opposite the one she came in through that most likely led towards the heart of the guild if it was anything like her own.

“You can call me Marcus. Information comes at a cost.” The senior thief stepped out into the light. He was not overly tall but had a lean look to him, good for getting in and out of places quickly. His black hair hung in a greasy hank over one side of his head, the other was shaven revealing a jagged scar running from his cheek and above his ear along his scalp.

Gwen pulled out a pouch of gold, hefted it in her hand, then tossed it to the thief. His eyes widened slightly as he looked inside the pouch. “Come with me. You,” he pointed at Feylhen, “stay here.” Gwen followed Marcus through the far door and down a corridor that had hallways leading off in different directions. They took a couple steps down and stopped at a door which was covered with ornate hardware. Marcus knocked on the door, then entered before anyone could respond.

“What is it?” the man behind the desk barked. Gwen almost had an uncomfortable sense of déja vu to when she met Mercer Frey in Riften the first time.

“She,” Marcus said thumbing over his shoulder, “comes seeking information.” He tossed the bag of gold on the desk.

“Take off your mask, I would see who I’m dealing with.”

“No. It’s for your own protection as much as my own. I’ve given you a name; that is enough. I seek information on the House of Repose.”

The guildmaster leaned back against the shelf behind him as he studied her. Gwen stood still and studied him back. After apparently coming to some sort of decision, he walked around the desk and sat on it’s edge. “All right. What do you want to know?”

“How to best infiltrate it. What defenses they have. Usual compliment of guards.”

The guild master’s eyebrows rose. “No one infiltrates the House of Repose unless they are a member.”

“No one from your organization has attempted it then?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Ah.”

The guildmaster turned to Marcus, “bring Giana in.” He turned back to Gwen after Marcus left, “how did you find us?”

“I saw markings on the walls around the city and assumed that like my own guild, they were from your own organization. I don’t know their exact significance, but I’m sure I could work them out with a bit of time. Unfortunately, I do have a time constraint, so I waited for a thief to follow to bring me here. I wasn’t expecting to find such a green one, but it worked out for me.”

“Hmm, yes. Going have to do something about that one,” he muttered.

Gwen leaned against the wall casually, “what would it be worth to you for me to get him off your hands?” The guildmaster narrowed his eyes, but didn’t say anything. Gwen sighed, “he’s not going to make it as a thief, but he knows the way to you. You’re going to have to remove him, but thieves usually leave the killing to assassin’s guilds. If you do it yourself, you have a body to dispose of; if you put a contract out to an assassin, you’re out gold.” The guildmaster nodded, that she had the situation correct. “So – what will you give me in exchange from removing him from Val Royeaux for you?”

“You obviously aren’t trying to get your gold back so what do you want?”

“Two things: one membership to your guild. Two, information on Ponchard de Lieux.”

“Membership,” the guildmaster choked on a laugh. “We know nothing about you other than you could sneak in with an incompetent footpad.”

“Fair enough. If I successfully infiltrate the House of Repose, you’ll grant me membership to your guild. But you’ll give me the information on Ponchard de Lieux now and in return, I will deal with Feylhen for you.”

“Done!” the guildmaster held his hand out to her to shake on their deal. He then told her all about Ponchard de Lieux; where he lived, place of business, number of men at arms, servants, and the like. After a few more minutes, knuckled rapped on the door and immediately Marcus and a woman entered. “Giana, this is Eostig. You will tell her _everything_ you know about the House of Repose.”

Giana proceeded to tell her about the House of Repose much as the guildmaster had with Gwen’s inquiry to Ronchard de Lieux. At the end of the telling, Gwen studied her for a moment; “what are you leaving out?” she coolly inquired.

Giana squirmed a bit, so Gwen let a bit of the dragon forward to make her eyes glow slightly. Giana gasped and blurted out the rest of the information, the trick wasn’t getting _into_ the House of Repose’s headquarters; the trick was getting _out_ at the end. With the additional information, Gwen was confident she’d be able to do both.

With her business concluded with the guildmaster, she walked back into the tavern room where Feylhen sat huddled in a corner surrounded by menacing thieves, and looking very unhappy. She marched over to him and clamped her hand around the back of his neck hauling him off his seat. Feylhen squeaked in fright but didn’t fight her grip on him. The thieves around them bristled. “Leave it,” the guildmaster barked, standing in the doorway to the tavern. “The footpad is her problem now. Let them pass.” Gwen nodded to the guildmaster then gave Feylhen a shove towards the door they had originally entered by.

“Are… are you going to kill me?” Feylhen asked in a loud voice as they got to the hallway.

“Shut up,” Gwen growled at him as she gave him another shove at the door. She closed the door behind them muting the laughter from the thieves in the tavern. “Be quiet, and follow me,” she said softly stepping past the elf as she led them back through the tunnels to the street. Once there, she pulled him into the shadows after determining no one was around to overhear them. “Where do you live?”

“I have a room down there,” he pointed to an adjacent street.

Gwen grimaced; it was too close to the guild, but it was less public than an inn. “Take me there, now.” Feylhen led her to his quarters. She looked around at the tiny space. “Do you have enough food and drink here to stay out of sight for a few days? No one can know you are still here or they _will_ kill you.” His eyes widened. “And probably me as well.”

“Y – yes,” he gulped and then nodded, frightened.

“Good. I have a job to finish first, but then I can help you get to the Inquisition. But you must stay out of sight, understood?” He nodded again, looking hopeful. “Don’t open the door to anyone except myself, or my associate, a Dalish elf named Liesel. You’ll recognize her; you stole her purse in the tavern earlier this evening.” Feylhen turned red as he realised what she was telling him. She laughed as he reached into his pocket to retrieve the purse, “don’t worry about it. Just stay out of sight until we come for you.” He nodded again. She studied him for a moment and then satisfied that he understood the gravity of the situation, she took her leave.

Gwen returned to the inn and let herself into the room she shared with Liesel. “How did it go?”

Gwen laughed as she changed into her darker clothing and armour, “not as I imagined but well enough. I have all the information I need for the House of Repose and Ponchard. I’m going to deal with Ponchard right now since there is still plenty of night remaining. When we leave Val Royeaux, we’ll have another elf; a failed thief, joining us. He’ll be going to Skyhold to hopefully apprentice with the blacksmiths.”

“How did that happen?” she asked incredulously.

Gwen laughed again re-lacing her boots, “the one that took your purse, he led me right to the thieves’ guild. I bought the information I needed on the House of Repose, and told them I’d deal with the elf in exchange for information on Ponchard.” Gwen tightened her armour and slid the extra daggers into her vambraces and a few extra lockpicks, before pulling on her cloak again. “Don’t wait up. I’ll be back before dawn.” Liesel nodded.

Gwen hurried through the city skirting the guards and other less-than-savoury types as she made her way to Ponchard’s home. His home wasn’t located within those of the upper nobility, or even those of rich merchants, but rather sat on the edge between the merchants’ district, and the marketplace proper. She understood immediately what his motivation was without knowing what exactly the Celestine League was about. She slipped around the back of the house and found a servant’s entrance. She deftly picked the lock on the door and slid through the door shutting it quietly behind her. She stood in the shadows listening to the sounds of the house. She could hear someone pacing back and forth upstairs, then the scrape of a chair and the pacing stopped. Silently she moved through the house and up the stairs. She found the bodyguard, asleep, or more likely passed out drunk from the smell of him in a room adjacent to the merchant’s. She carefully closed the door to the guard’s room; examining the door, she shoved a copper coin between the door and the frame jamming the latch preventing it from being easily opened, then turned her attention to the merchant himself.

Ponchard sat at a small desk writing on a piece of parchment with his back to the door. _Idiot_ , Gwen thought, rolling her eyes. The quill scratched at parchment in the flickering light of a single candle set on the corner of the desk. He paused for a moment, quill suspended in the air, Gwen froze where she was until he resumed writing. Silently she pulled one of her daggers out and laid it across his throat as she wrapped her other hand over his mouth. “Scream or make any loud noise, and I will cut your throat,” she hissed in his ear. “Place your hands flat on the desk if you understand.”

Slowly, he dropped the quill scattering droplets of ink all over the parchment he had been writing, and placed his hands, palm down, onto the desk top. “Who are you? What do you…” he asked. Gwen pressed the dagger harder against his throat silencing him.

“Be quiet. Who I am is of no concern of yours. As to what I want – you have an amulet that doesn’t belong to you. I want it.”

“I don’t…” Ponchard started to shake his head and froze immediately as the dagger at his throat cut a fine line through the first layer of skin. The sharp smell of urine permeated the air.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Gwen growled at him. “I want the Pavus amulet.”

Ponchard hesitated for a moment then slowly moved his left hand to a small box on his desk. He flipped open the lid and within lay a golden amulet; a two-headed snake typical of Tevinter design twisted around itself sat at the top of the amulet, with seven gems inlaid within the amulet below them. “Please don’t take it; it’s my only way into the Celestine League. I need the Inquisition’s support to elevate me to their notice.”

“There are other ways; blackmailing a member of the Inquisition to gain leverage isn’t one of them. Make yourself useful to them and they’d be happy to help you. _This_ – isn’t the way.” Gwen scooped up the amulet and secured it within one of the hidden pockets in her armour. She took the dagger away from his throat then wrapped herself in the shadows and swiftly left the room before he could turn around to see her. She slipped out of the house and made her way back to the inn making sure that no one saw or followed her.

* * *

As Giana had indicated, getting into the House of Repose wasn’t terribly difficult. Really, it wasn’t any more difficult than the traps set in Mercer’s basement that the guild eventually used as a final test for candidates wanting membership to the guild. The first major challenge was locating the correct documents that were stored with in the House’s vaults; said vaults consisted of five floors of floor-to-ceiling shelves, boxes, and various containers. Worse still the vault was similar to the rotunda at Skyhold where every floor was open and visible to the other floors. Gwen would need all her skills in order to find the contract within the thousands of other documents without being seen.

Gwen stood back in the shadows of the first-floor doorway. Opposite her was another doorway that Giana said led to a staircase down into training rooms, living quarters, and beyond that, a prison. There was a way out via the prison, but it would require a water-breathing amulet or her water-breathing spell which she was not comfortable being reliant on as she didn’t know how much magicka she may be called upon to use simply to locate the contract first. The other way out besides a heavily guarded door on the main level was somewhere on the upper-most floor but she needed to find it. Each floor also had additional rooms off the main vault, she could potentially stumble across someone within those rooms if she wasn’t careful.

To the right of her was the start of the stairs that spiralled around the inside of the rotunda, unlike Skyhold’s that spiraled along the outside wall, so anyone travelling the stairs was also visible to anyone else within the vault. Before she did anything, she needed to know where people were located. Drawing a breath, she used the Aura Whisper shout, “ _Laas Yah Nir._ ” There were three people on the second level in one of the rooms off the vault, and another two on the fifth floor, again in a room off the vault. No one was with the rotunda itself. Offering up a prayer to Nocturnal to grant her luck, she cast her clairvoyance spell. The spell spiralled around the staircase to the third level of the vault and faded away. Keeping her balance on the balls of her feet, she hurried up the stairs as quickly and quietly as she could while testing each step to prevent making any noise from a squeaky step or any traps that may be set to trip up intruders. She made it past the second floor and the assassins on that floor with no problem, and arrived on the third floor.

She carefully made her way to the approximate area where the clairvoyance spell had dissipated. She started to cast the clairvoyance spell when a small sound made her abruptly stop. She whispered, “ _Laas Yah Nir._ ” One of the people on the fifth had moved out of the room and was making their way to the stairs; they would have seen her clairvoyance spell. She quickly moved away from the door, and the entrances and exits of the stairs on that level drawing her cloak around herself as she pressed herself into the shadows behind some boxes. She withdrew a dagger in case she needed to dispatch the assassin and held it hidden in the folds of her cloak and waited. The assassin made their, his, way down the stairs; his lantern bobbed along advertising his progress through the vaults. He paused at the third level, just opposite Gwen, and looked around. Gwen tucked her chin down to hide the glimmer of her eyes as she watched him; her hand tightened on the handle of her dagger as she tensed ready to move. A trickle of sweat ran down the back of her neck as she waited. The assassin moved on; Gwen stifled the urge to giggle as she released the tension in her muscles, it had been too long since she had had this much fun lurking in dark corners.

She whispered her shout and checked where everyone was located. Confident that her clairvoyance spell wouldn’t be seen, she cast the spell sending the glowing ball out. It dropped into the basket in front of her. She covered her mouth and nose to smother the squeak of laughter that did escape. Gathering the bundle of parchments that were glowing, she tucked them into her armour. Then risking one more cast of the clairvoyance spell, she concentrated on an escape route. The spell shot up the stairs to the fifth level and out of a skylight. _Huh, that’s not what I expected when Giana said there was an exit up here_ , Gwen thought.

She quickly made her way up the fifth floor looking for the best way to access the skylight her spell indicated would be an escape route when she ran into the assassin that chose that moment to step out of the room at the top of the stairs. Their collision sent a vase tumbling down the stairs and off the edge to smash on the floor at the bottom of the vault. Gwen quickly got to her feet and rushed the assassin slamming her hand over his mouth and simultaneously slid her dagger up between his ribs. She felt him go slack under her hand as she yanked the blade out as shouts from below and rapid footsteps up the stairs began to draw closer to her. She invoked her invisibility and ran for the skylight. There was a table and a shelving unit below the skylight. She jumped on the table, climbed the shelf, and the skylight wouldn’t open. She noticed the latch was stuck, she stuck the blade of her dagger under the edge of the latch and slammed the palm of her hand into the hilt. The latch popped open. Gwen gave the skylight a shove then had to dodge an arrow as one of the assassins shot at the open skylight hoping to hit whomever was there even if they couldn’t see the intruder.

Grabbing onto the ledge of the skylight, she hauled herself over the edge and rolled onto the roof. She jumped to her feet and ran towards the edge of the roof. There was no way down and the other roof was too far a jump. She backed up a couple paces, with a quick glance over her shoulder she saw a head poke out the skylight; she ran towards the edge of the roof and shouted, “ _Wuld Nah Kest._ ” The whirlwind sprint propelled her across the gap between the two buildings but also made her visible again. She ran across the roof keeping low as possible ducking the occasional arrow shot her way, she looked over the edge and saw a balcony below her. She dropped onto the balcony and saw a cart full of straw below that. She pulled herself over the railing and dropped into the cart. She waited for a few minutes until the street was silent again and used her aura shout to determine if anyone was around her. When she was satisfied that no one was around, she climbed out of the cart and ducked into the shadows to work her way back to the inn.

* * *

After a trip to the thieves’ guild to let the guildmaster know she survived her infiltration of the House of Repose and collect on their agreement, she escorted Feylhen to some Inquisition scouts and soldiers that were transporting supplies back to Skyhold as she didn’t have another horse for him to accompany her and Liesel on their trip. They returned to the city and did a little bit more sightseeing and shopping before heading out the following morning.

Gwen and Liesel shouldered their packs as they walked off the docks and headed to the stables where they had left the horses. Shadowmere, and the little chestnut mare for Liesel, nickered and pawed when they saw the two women. Gwen paid the hosteler for taking care of the horses, then tucked the Pavus amulet, the papers from the House of Repose, and the pendant for Rylen securely in the saddle bags, as well as her extra rations and water skin, before climbing into the saddle and turning the horse to the Imperial Highway. Liesel brought her horse alongside her as they rode side by side down the road. “How did you enjoy your trip to Val Royeaux,” Gwen asked handing Liesel the little package with squares of chocolate.

“It was… interesting,” Liesel said cautiously. “Is it always like that travelling with you? Skulking around in the dark?”

 “Not always but…” Gwen snorted with laughter, “well yeah, a lot of the time, come to think of it. Come on, let’s go home.” She clucked to Shadowmere and moved into a trot.

They travelled along at a decent pace giving Liesel’s mare rest breaks as needed as Shadowmere had no need for breaks being a spirit horse. After passing Halamshiral they started moving into a mountainous area that had a lot of switchbacks along the road.

“Liesel, listen carefully,” Gwen said slowing to a walk. “Hand me your waterskin and do not react to what I’m about to say.” She paused to listen carefully around them. “We are about to get ambushed. Let your feet out of your stirrups casually like you are stretching your legs. When I tell you to go, you are going to vault onto Shadowmere and run. Shadowmere, you must carry Liesel to Skyhold, will you permit that?” Shadowmere bobbed its head up and down.”

“Who is it?” Liesel hissed at her trying not to panic.

“Qunari. Get to Skyhold. Do not stop. They want me; they will kill you.” Gwen quickly yanked the pendants from her neck and tucked them into the saddlebags and secured Liesel’s waterskin to her own saddle. “Tell Rylen to bring the pendants so I will know it’s really him.”

Before Liesel could ask what she meant, her mare screamed as an arrow thunked into it’s hind quarters. “Now Liesel!” Gwen steered Shadowmere at the chestnut mare as she tumbled off away from the horses. She rolled to her feet casting a quick glance over her shoulder to see Liesel and Shadowmere disappear around the bend, the chestnut mare trailing behind. She took a deep breath and pulled her daggers to face the attackers wishing she had had time to pull the swords from where they had been secured to the saddle before she dismounted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Gwen is in trouble! And yes, she totally pulled an Assassin's Creed-esque escape from the House of Repose!
> 
> Translations:  
> Eostig (Breton): Nightingale  
> petit voleur – little thief


	27. Ambush & Pursuit

Gwen thanked Talos for the dragon hearing and sense of smell that gave her the warning that they were going to be ambushed. She heard a snatch of the orders to take her alive; she had the advantage in that while she’d try to kill her attackers, they were going to try very hard not to kill her. Not that it would make a huge difference as she was seriously outnumbered but perhaps she could thin the herd enough to make her escape.

“Vinek kathas ataashi bas-saarebas. Maaras katara bas!” a Qunari woman barked as four other Qunari, three elves, and a human stepped into sight. “Viddasala said she’s to be taken alive.”

Gwen’s eyes widened as she noticed that the human appeared to have his mouth sown shut and was on a leash held by one of the Qunari. The human’s hands came up as a ball of ice magic formed between his hands and he launched it at her. The spell washed over her as she shrugged it off. “ _Yol Toor Shul,”_ she shouted at the mage and his handler. The mage screamed behind his stitched lips and the Qunari bellowed as they both fell to the ground roasted by the fire shout.

She dodged as she heard the twang of a bow string; the arrow bounced off the stones close to her feet. _Okay, I’ll come to you then._ Gwen invoked her dragon aspect to provide some additional armour then rushed at one of the closest Qunari. She dashed around his swings slashing at any skin she could find as he struggled to figure out how to capture her. She got behind him and jabbed him in the back; he responded by jerking his hands behind him to grab at her just as she had hoped. She ducked under his arm and dug her blade across his exposed belly as she passed him. He groaned and collapsed to his knees as he grasped at his belly in a vain attempt to stop his guts from spilling out.

An arrow plinked off the ethereal armour. Gwen spun in the direction the arrow came from and shouted her whirlwind sprint to cut the distance between her and the elven archer.

“Teth a!” one of the Qunari cried out in warning to the elf but it was too late. Gwen’s blades opened the elf’s throat dropping him.

Gwen spun around looking for the nearest target; they backed away putting more distance between her and them. _Shit, that’s not good,_ she thought. She glanced around, both ends of the road were covered and the terrain was not ideal for escape. She faced the Qunari that stood between her and road to Skyhold, he was too far away to get him with a shout. Wary, he watched her study him and pulled out his shield but no other weapon. She raced towards him and shouted, “ _Faas Ru Maar!_ ” ignoring the arrows plinking off the armour. He staggered and dropped his shield. Gwen slammed into him, scoring his arms with her daggers as he scrambled back from her.

Her dragon aspect faded away. An arrow hit her in the back of the leg making her stumble. She swiped her blade at the arrow breaking the shaft away, and swung at the Qunari that continued to back away from her as she regained her feet. Another arrow hit her in the calf. Gwen felt a wave of nausea roll over her as a fiery pain licked up her veins from where the arrows had struck her. She gave her head a hard shake and focused on the Qunari in front of her. She swung wildly at him and stumbled to her knees.

Another Qunari approached from the side. She turned her head towards them. “ _Yol…”_ she started to shout as another wave of nausea cut her off making her gag and cough. She dropped her hands to the road.

“Quick, gag her!” someone said. Gwen jerked upright and swung her dagger at the approaching feet on her other side.

“Pashaara! Ebasit kata itwa-ost.”

Gwen screamed as her world exploded in pain as someone slammed a maul down onto the back of her calf breaking her leg. She collapsed into the dirt of the road.

Ashaad made an annoyed sound, “that was unnecessary. Taardathras wants her as undamaged as possible.”

Sataari grunted holstering his maul, “now it can’t run.”

They stripped off all her armour and weapons, tossing them into the bushes at the side of the road. Sataari jerked on her arm lifting her unconscious body off the ground, so the others could bind her, then he tossed her over his shoulder as they left the road.

* * *

Her whole body hurt; her leg felt like it was on fire and dragged at her as if it were made of stone. Tentacles writhed around her wrists, her throat, and legs. Her eyes fluttered open, and the world churned before her eyes. A noxious green miasma choked her senses confusing her perception; she didn’t know if she was up or down. She clamped down on her rising terror in order to grasp what was going on. Taking a deep breath, she suddenly became aware of the pressure around her throat, and the tentacle wrapped across her mouth effectively gagging her. In front of her – or below her – she wasn’t sure which way, feet shifted bearing her across the terrain. Gwen panicked, she couldn’t be in Hermaeus Mora’s domain again. She swore she’d never, ever go back there. She couldn’t shout but her hands were bound in such a way that she could flex her wrists to separate her palms for each other, and so she called a fireball into her hands to burn the tentacles that bound her hands together.

Suddenly the world shifted, or more correctly, she shifted as she fell and slammed into the slimy floor of the Apocrypha. Pain flared in her leg and she gritted her teeth to stop herself from passing out only to gag further on the poisonous, acidic taste of the tentacle wrapped around her mouth. She retched as she rolled herself onto her elbows and knees, desperately clawing at the gag with her fingers. The Lurker slid forward kicking her arms out from under her as another Lurker wrenched them behind her back binding her arms from elbow to elbow with tentacles; her hands bound flat tight against her arms. A tentacle wrapped around her neck hauling her up from the floor; her frantic gasping only helped the Lurker that pried her jaw open and then spat its acidic slime past the gag, covering her nose and mouth forcing her to swallow. Black crept in from all sides as her eyes fluttered and then shut.

* * *

The guard on the watch tower saw a cloud of snow as it was being kicked up by a horse going unnaturally fast. He rang the bell twice to notify the fortress that a rider was coming in. He pulled out the looking glass and focused on the incoming traveller; the rider didn’t appear to be in control but flopped around a bit with the speed of the horse. Something was decidedly not right. The guard reached up and tugged the rope to the bell ringing it again then went down to the gate to meet the rider. The horse galloped up the causeway to the, dodged around the guard nearly throwing its rider, and continued across the causeway between the gatehouse and the barbican without slowing down. He ran back into the gatehouse and hauled on the rope to indicate an emergency.

At the keep, guards rushed into the barbican lining either side of the causeway with bows taut ready to fire. More soldiers formed a crescent just inside the gate with swords and shields readied. Cullen and Max rushed out onto the ramparts outside of the tower to look over the wall at whatever caused the alert from the gate tower. No looking glass was needed to recognize the horse running between the gate and the barbican. “That’s Gwen’s horse, Shadowmere,” Cullen said.

“That’s not Gwen,” Max added.

“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” Cullen shouted to the soldiers. “Let her through.” He and Max rushed down the stairs to the bailey. Shadowmere slid across the stones coming to a stop among the soldiers and reared slightly at their proximity. “Back off. Give them some room,” Cullen barked at the soldiers.

Max quickly moved forward to help as Liesel attempted to dismount. “What’s happened? Where’s Gwen.”

“Ambushed,” Liesel gasped. Max swung her up into his arms. “Wait,” she said reaching for the saddle. “Packs.”

“I’ll get them. Take her to the war room,” Cullen told Max.

Max hurried across the bailey towards the Great Hall. Rylen met him at the bottom of the stairs, “Liesel, where’s Gwen?”

“They were ambushed Rylen,” Max answered. “Join us in the war room.” The two men climbed the stairs, Rylen shoved open the door to permit Max through. “Solas! Need your help here,” Max called as he passed the door to the Rotunda and then disappeared through the door to the Josephine’s office and the war room beyond that. Solas hurried across the hall with Cullen close behind bearing the saddlebags from Shadowmere. The doors slammed shut behind them.

“What was all that about?” Dorian asked emerging from the doorway next to Varric.

“Shit, nothing good. Max was carrying Liesel when he called for Solas.”

“Where’s Gwen?” he asked just as Bull strode into the hall.

“Hey, you guys know what’s going on? Shadowmere is out in the yard going nuts scattering the stablehands,” Bull asked thumbing over his shoulder.

* * *

Max put Liesel down in a chair in the war room as Solas crouched down beside her and immediately started examining her with his magic. “She’s uninjured, but exhausted,” he informed them as he started casting a restorative spell over her.

“Liesel, what happened?” Max asked.

“We were on our way back from Val Royeaux, when – ” Liesel started coughing. Josephine hurried around the table with a cup of water. “We were ambushed. Gwen knew they were there, and sent me ahead.”

“Where did this happen? When?” Cullen asked.

“Day before yesterday. On the twisty bit of the highway just after Halamshiral.”

“Do you know who ambushed you?” Max asked chafing her hands as he squatted in front of her.

“Gwen said Qunari.” Josephine gasped.

“Get the Iron Bull in here,” Leliana said. Solas nodded and rushed out, returning moments later with Bull.

“What’s going on, boss?”

Max pivoted on his feet to look at Bull without getting up from holding Liesel’s hands. “Gwen and Liesel were ambushed on the Imperial Highway by Qunari. Any ideas as to why?” Max noticed Bull flick his eyes at Leliana. He turned to look at his Spymaster, “Leliana?”

“The Viddasala asked me about the Dragonborn. Sent me a message by a secret drop and wanted some information. I shared the request with Leliana.”

“It’s true. I decided that Bull could share a bit of information; it wasn’t anything that was being held secret, they simply found out about it before everyone else.”

“When was this?” Max asked sharply standing up to glare at his spymaster.

“Right after she took the dragon in the Hinterlands,” Leliana replied calmly.

“I’d… started to question some of the orders coming from the Ben-Hassrath. I discussed it with Leliana and we decided to keep up appearances to continue to get intel and not tip our hand. Obviously, they questioned my loyalty which is why the test with the dreadnought happened.”

“But that was months later,” Cullen said.

“Yes, and there were no other orders or inquiries regarding Gwen. I thought they were satisfied with the answers they got.”

“Apparently not,” Max said angrily.

“No,” Leliana said softly, bowing her head.

Cole suddenly appeared, sitting cross-legged on the war table startling everyone. “Choking, gagging, so much pain. I can’t be here! I can’t be here! Rylen. They’ve buried me!” Rylen made a strangled sound of his own as he clenched his fists.

Solas reached out and touched Cole, he said softly, “let it go for the moment. Don’t let it overwhelm you.”

“Okay, we know she’s alive,” Max said breaking his gaze with Cole, and placing his hand on Rylen’s shoulder giving it a squeeze in support. “How do we get her back?”

“We’ll have to track them. Where exactly did this happen?” Bull asked.

“Just after Halamshiral when you climb through that mountain range. There’s that first switch back over the river.”

“We’ll start there. Bull, Solas; be ready to ride in an hour. I want Varric and Dorian as well,” Max stated. “You as well, of course, Rylen.”

“I’m coming too,” Liesel said struggling to get out of the chair.

“No, Liesel,” Rylen said putting his hand on her shoulder. “You’ve done enough; you’re exhausted.” The elf started to protest, tears falling leaving streaks in the dust on her cheeks. Rylen pulled her into a hug, “I’ll bring her back,” he said fiercely. He stood up and turned towards the door.

“Wait!” Liesel rummaged through her pack, yanking the amulets out of the pocket and holding them out to Rylen. “Take these. Gwen said for you to bring them, so she’d know it was you.”

Bull nodded, “smart.”

Within the hour, the courtyard was a flurry of activity as mounts were saddled, rations and water skins were packed, and everyone that was riding out was armed to the teeth. “Send out messages to the scouts Leliana, to keep a watch out for her or the Qunari,” Max ordered. Leliana nodded.

“Maker go with you and bring her home,” Cassandra said as they turned as one and headed out the gates.

They entered the mountain pass early on the third day after pushing their mounts as hard as they dared only stopping at night when they could no longer see the road, and starting again with the first glimmer of light. “There!” Varric called out, noting a scorch mark in the dust. They spread out and searched the area.

“There’s blood over here.”

“And over here.”

“Over here,” Dorian called, rubbing his nose briefly. The others joined him and looked over the edge of the road at what he pointed at.

“Now that’s a stench,” Varric said covering his nose and mouth.

“Wouldn’t they have taken their dead to cover their trail?” Max asked, also covering his nose.

“Nah. To the Qun, you’re just meat when you’re dead. Taking the dead would slow them down.” He scanned the corpses noting the two charred one. “They had bas-saarebas,” he said, pointing to the collared mage.

“Charming,” Dorian replied.

Rylen spotted something glimmering in the bushes and skidded down the embankment as short way. “What have you found?” Max asked. Rylen pulled out Gwen’s belt and armour. He looked around and found her daggers lying underneath a bush.

“This is all Gwen’s. There is blood on the blades.”

“Not hers.”

“How can you tell, Tiny?”

“Doesn’t smell like hers.” Varric gave him a strange look, but Rylen’s look was decidedly more hostile. “What?” Bull shrugged, “we sparred; I got in a lucky shot.”

“Fine,” Max interrupted before things got more tense between the group. “This doesn’t tell us anything new. If we push on hard, we can be at the ferry to Val Royeaux by the end of the day, agreed?” Everyone got back on and spurred their mounts on to the ferry at Lydes.

* * *

Gwen flinched as the sound of crashing close by. Her shoulders ached at the sudden movement as her arms had remained bound after her attempt with the fireball. The tentacles remained to blindfold and gag her as she sat huddled on the damp floor; another around her neck bound her to the wall behind her. The tentacle around her neck suddenly tightened as it hauled her off the floor until she was face to face with the Lurker. Gwen scrambled to get her good leg underneath her to stop herself from being strangled. A moist, sour breath wafted across her face making her nose wrinkle as she tried not to retch behind the gag. It pulled her up, pinning her against the wall grinding into her hip while something wet and slimy ran up her face from chin to temple. She slammed her head forwards smacking into the Lurker’s face. In retaliation, the Lurker twisted a tentacle around her chest giving a breast a hard twist making Gwen shriek in pain, oblivious to the rumbling chatter from the other Lurker near by. The Lurker holding her up by the neck released her to crash to the floor.

* * *

“Fazha thrin!” a female sounding voice barked. “She is not to be damaged.”

Sataari release his hold on her letting her fall to the ground, her broken leg smacking the floor making her pass out again. “What difference does it make if I have a little fun with it before delivery? It’s not like it’s going to tell tales; it’s delirious.”

“You have done enough damage already, Sataari. Taardathras wants her intact, but perhaps I should explain to Viddasala that you need to be re-educated because you can’t take orders?” Ashaad asked him. He grumbled and stomped out of the small cabin they were using for the night before the ship was scheduled to arrive for them.

Ashaad put the cup down on the table then pushed Gwen back up until she was seated again, securing the rope around her neck back to the wall. She patted Gwen on the cheek gently, “wake up.”  Gwen thrashed against her restraints. “Pashaara. Come now, you need to eat.” She gently pried the gag from Gwen’s mouth, the moment it was removed Gwen took a breath to shout, but Ashaad used the heel of her hand to push her chin up until her head rested against the wall. “Maraas shokra. You are in no position to fight. Eat and keep up your strength.” She poured the thin gruel into Gwen’s mouth and covered her mouth until she swallowed. Once she had fed her the cup of gruel, she dosed her with another potion, and pulled the gag back into place before she left.

* * *

The light was failing as the sun started it’s decline behind the mountains when they rode to the inn at the Lydes docks. Max and Rylen went into the inn to find the ferryman while the others held the horses. Shortly, the two men emerged upon finding out that the ferryman was still tying up the ferry after completing his last trip of the day. He was still at the docks. They hurried to the docks to catch him.

“Hello there! We’re looking for some passengers you may have ferried to Val Royeaux a few days ago. Some qunari. There would have been a red-haired woman with them,” Max called out to the man. A little girl was holding a lantern for him as he tied up his ferry.

“There was a mercenary company through, oh I think five days ago, said they were Valo-Kas. Three qunari, two elves; no red-haired woman with them though,” the ferry man scratched at the stubble along his neck thoughtfully.

Bull grunted, “they weren’t Valo-Kas. They’re in Denerim at the moment.”

“Papa,” a little girl tugged on the man’s sleeve, “there was red hair sticking out of the box on the cart.”

“What’s this?” Max sharpened his gaze on the girl.

“No, no, they said that was…” the ferry man paused, looking horrified. “Oh, Maker have mercy. They said they had been hunting rare game for their employer.”

Max looked grim as did everyone else. “Did they say anything else? Where they were headed?”

“Heard one of them say something about the Free Marches. When they got off, they headed northwest towards Val Chevin.”

“I know you are finished for the day, but we will pay you very well for one more trip tonight. It’s a matter of life or death. An important member of the Inquisition has been kidnapped.”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” the man said sending his daughter scurrying home to her mother.

They loaded the horses onto the ferry and left immediately. They gathered at the bow of the ferry to discuss what they knew. Bull crossed his arms as he leaned against the railing, “their final destination won’t be the Free Marches. If the Viddasala is behind this, they’ll want to get to Seheron. Fastest way with a dangerous prisoner would be by ship.”

“Yeah, but taking a ship from the Free Marches, the first major port that could handle a ship capable of that journey would be Kirkwall. Qunari in Kirkwall wouldn’t go unnoticed,” Varric argued.

“And Ostwick has enough history with Qunari making that an unlikely port to use, as well,” Max added.

They all stood thinking. “Cumberland,” Dorian said. “When I came from Tevinter, I arrived in Jader by way of Cumberland. They don’t need to go to Free Marches when one of the biggest ports on the continent is in Cumberland.”

“Andraste’s tits!” Varric swore. “I need to get a message to Riviani as soon as we make shore; she has one of the fastest ships around. She could help if she’s anywhere on the Waking Sea.”

“Can you sense her anymore Cole?” Rylen asked tentatively.

The spirit boy stared off into the water, “choking, burning, hard to breathe. Stay away from the green. I will not give in.” He paused and lowered his voice, “I’ll kill them first.”

“Is she in the Fade, Cole?” Solas asked.

“No, the poison is keeping her out.”

“Poison?”

“Yes, it burns through her and makes her sick.”

Bull groaned, “saar-qamek. Same shit they used on the blades when they made the attempt against me. Good thing you brought those amulets with you Rylen, you might need them to help convince her that you are who you say you are.”

* * *

Early in the morning, a scout arrived at the inn to update the group with the latest information they had on Gwen’s whereabouts. “Inquisitor. A local hostler rented horses and two carts to a Tal-Vashoth mercenary group five days ago. Three qunari, two elves. They loaded equipment and a strongbox onto the carts. Hostler was to arrange for the horses and carts to be sent back from Cumberland.”

“Well that’s a bit of good news for us,” Varric said. “Carts will be slower than us on horseback.”

“But why carts at this point? Surely they’re not so cocky to think they can dawdle?” Max pondered.

“Gwen’s still fighting them,” Bull said thoughtfully. “You heard what the Kid said. They can’t keep dosing her with the saar-qamek, and retain her mind. The Viddasala would want her mind intact. Trying to travel with Gwen on horseback when she’s resisting – not going to happen. Even if they sedate her with something else, someone is going to notice things aren’t right. _She’s_ in the strongbox.”

“I’m going to kill them,” Rylen growled through his teeth.

Max put his hand on Rylen’s shoulder, “we are all going to kill them. Varric, do you want get your message out before we leave?”

“Yeah, if Riviani is anywhere around, I’ll get her to meet us in Cumberland and to watch for Qunari ships.”

Once messages were sent out, they mounted up and headed east to Val Chevin. While the Imperial Highway would be easier to travel, particularly with carts, they were more mobile and cut across country using lesser roads with the hope that they would be able to cut more of the head start the Ben-Hassrath agents had on them.

Solas and Cole continued to try to find Gwen in the Fade, with limited success. Cole could sense her thoughts, but they were disjointed and confusing, no doubt as a result of the saar-qamek that still coursed through her body. Unfortunately for them, she was never cognizant enough to give them any sense as to her location as she kept slipping into her memories. All of them, Rylen more so, were looking haggard as Cole relayed her terror and pain, fears of dying paralysed in the dark, and occasional bouts of rage.

“It’s probably a good thing that she can not be found in the Fade. Her emotional state is so volatile that many would be attracted to her,” Solas stated. Dorian nodded in agreement.

“How do we deal with the saar-qamek when we find her?” Rylen asked.

“I brought the antidote,” Bull replied.

“The same that you were dosing yourself with earlier?” Max asked.

Bull nodded. “We just have to get it into her – which might require force. You all need to be prepared for that.” The men looked grim at the prospect.

Late on the third day, they rode exhausted into Cumberland. They had managed to cut down the lead the Qunari had on them in the hope that they were still in the city or at the very least, not that far out into the Waking Sea. They headed immediately to the dock where an Inquisition scout met them.

The scout ran up to Max and saluted, “Inquisitor. The qunari were in the city yesterday. They were delayed in leaving due to poor weather. Lady Dragonborn has not been seen. Three qunari boarded a ship called ‘Asaara’, the elves are still here.”

“Did the qunari have any cargo with them?”

“Yes, Inquisitor. They had padlocked chest they took on board.”

“Where are the elves now?”

“They are bedded down in a rented room not far from here. I can take you there if you like.”

“Has the Pearl arrived?” Varric asked.

“Yes. The admiral – ” the scout blushed, “told me to let you know she is ready, willing, and able when you have need of her.”

Varric snorted with laughter at the scout’s discomfiture. “That sounds like Riviani. If you have no immediate need of me, Your Inquisitorialness, I’ll let Riviani know we’re here and find out if she’d heard or seen anything about this ‘Asaara’.”

Max nodded, and the other joined him to go find the elves.

* * *

The platforms of the Apocrypha shifted and swayed underneath Gwen as she tried to get her eyes to focus on surroundings. She recoiled as the acidic sludge splashed towards her then retreated as the platform shifted once again. Thoughts slid through her mind; she tried desperately to hang onto any one thought to anchor herself but the oily poison that the Lurkers kept forcing down her throat made it difficult. There was something about a book; a spell perhaps, or some knowledge that would help her escape Hermaeus Mora’s domain. She rolled onto her front and pulled her knees under herself, hissing at the pain in her leg as she sat up. The floor shuddered with a roll of thunder violent enough to knock her off balance sending her sprawling to the floor again. Gwen screamed in rage against the gag at her helplessness as she lay with her bound arms trapped below her, the inky darkness creeping in again to pull her back under.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter isn't too confusing with the three POVs!
> 
> Translations (Qunlat):  
> Vinek kathas ataashi bas-saarebas. Maaras katara bas! - Seize [the] dragon mage. Do not kill, thing!  
> Teth a! - Watch out!  
> Pashaara! Ebasit kata itwa-ost. - Enough! It is ended. You have fallen.  
> Fazha thrin! - Leave us!  
> Pashaara. - Enough.  
> Maraas shokra. - Stop struggling


	28. Rescue

The Pearl headed off into the Waking Sea in pursuit of the Asaara. After getting everyone settled and seeing that her crew were attending their duties, everyone met in the ship’s dining room for introductions. “Riviani, may I present his Inquisitorialness, Maxwell Trevelyan,” Varric said with his usual irreverent humor. Isabela gave Max a look that was blatantly sexual which had the man blushing as he stammered his own greeting. “If you’ve finished having eyeball sex with the last great hope of Thedas; I’d like to introduce his companions, Tiny, Sparkler, Chuckles, Kid, and – hmm, I don’t have a nickname for you yet, Rylen. Guess I’m gonna have to work on that one. Rylen is Gwen’s – betrothed?”

“Betrothed? You’re not sure?” Isabela raised her eyebrow appraising Rylen.

“Uh, I’m not sure where their relationship is to name it,” Varric said.

“Betrothed is appropriate,” Rylen said offering his hand to shake Isabela’s.

“Hmm, pity.” Isabela held onto his hand for a few moments longer than necessary.

Varric cleared his throat, “so what did the elves have to say?”

Max poured himself a cup of ale from the jug on the table. “The elves confirmed that Gwen was with the Qunari and they left on the Asaara yesterday. They also confirmed that they had used saar-qamek on her.” Isabela cringed having had her own experience with the drug at the hands of the Qunari. “They also told us that their orders came from the Viddasala but they were delivering Gwen to the Taardathras.”

“Who or what is ‘Taadathras’?” Varric asked, puzzled.

“Taardathras are Qunari responsible for animal husbandry, particularly handling of dragons and collection of dragon venom. Makes sense they’d be interested in Gwen,” Bull explained. “With her ability to control dragons, it would make their efforts a lot easier. Plus, there’s the whole dragon blood thing.”

“Right… ‘cus that’s not creepy at all,” Varric muttered.

“They said Gwen’s been drugged and bound since they captured her. She had still been fighting them even with the potions they’ve been dosing her with; broke the nose of one of the Qunari, Sataari, by headbutting him when he got rough…” Max trailed off as Rylen got up and started pacing.

“Good girl,” Bull muttered, nodding.

“Well. The dockmaster said that they left yesterday; the wind was against them with the storm which puts us less than a day behind. I expect we’ll catch them tomorrow. Any of you have experience fighting at sea?” Isabela asked. They shook their heads. “You’re going to end up fighting on their ship as they’ll be riding lower in the water than us so they’ll have the advantage; they’ll be able to take shots at you when you’re boarding, and they’re familiar with their own ship,” she warned. She turned to Dorian and Solas, “try not to set both ships on fire.”

“I’d rather we didn’t set either ship on fire; at least, not until we have Gwen over here,” Rylen stated. “Then you can blow those bastards out of the water.” The others agreed.

“I suggest you all try to get some rest,” Isabela said as she headed up to the deck.

Cole sat on a bench at the side of the room, he tipped his head if listening. “She’s calm. It’s oily and dark, but she’s calm.” He raised his chin until he looked directly at Rylen, “it’s all going to burn. I’m sorry dii su’um.”

“She plans to go down fighting at the first opportunity,” Rylen said grimly. Bull and Max nodded.

“With fire,” Dorian added.

“Well… shit.”

* * *

The platforms shuddered as they shifted again. The foul pools overflowed spreading the acidic oily liquid across the ground. Gwen recoiled from the noxious odour and tried to pull herself up away from its touch. She was still bound in the tentacles, but none of the Lurkers were present and they hadn’t bound her to the wall after shoving her into the chamber; now was her chance to try to escape. She rolled herself over until she could pull her knees underneath herself and lift her head from the floor. She quickly looked around for something she could use to cut the tentacles or at the least pull the one that was wrapped around her mouth. She spotted a piece of broken pottery on the floor; she crawled across the floor towards it throwing herself in that direction as the platform bucked again knocking her off balance. She groaned and gritted her teeth against the pain in her leg; passing our now would be a bad idea. She shoved the piece of pottery around until it was jammed against the wall and then angled her face to drag the tentacle gag across the jagged edge. She rubbed and rubbed against the broken shard, hissing as she felt the piece cut her cheek with another lurch of the platform sending her crashing into the wall, but it was enough for the gag to tear. Gwen spat the offensive thing out of her mouth and again struggled to her knees bracing herself against the roll of the floor. Suddenly she heard pounding feet approaching her and a Lurker burst through the green fog that surrounded the platform. Without a moments hesitation, Gwen shouted, “ _Yol Toor Shul!”_ The Lurker went down howling and spitting as the fire engulfed it; flames licked across the floor and burnt through the fog to ignite the walls of the Apocrypha. The pages of the stacked books curled as the fire caught, and sent showering sparks with each shudder of the platforms.

She pushed herself up the wall and carefully hopped towards the opening the Lurker had just come through. She carefully skirted the smoldering corpse, and hopped through the opening jamming her shoulder against the edge to keep upright as she wobbled. She hopped forward and found another corridor but it just dead-ended in an empty chamber filled with the stacked books and an empty table. She carried on carefully listening for more Lurkers; several Lurkers, including the biggest one she had ever seen, appeared before her and she immediately shouted, “ _Yol Toor Shul!”_ Strangely, the flames died immediately. “No, no, no,” she sobbed. Suddenly another Lurker appeared behind her and yanked the tentacle around her neck forcing her chin up and her head back against it’s repulsive carapace. It chittered and grunted at the other Lurkers; they stepped forwards as if to challenge it for her. The Lurker dug one of its claws into her side as it pulled harder on the tentacle around her throat. She glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw she was very close to one of its soft antennae; instantly she twisted her head and bit down on the antennae with all her strength. Blood filled her mouth, but she didn’t let go. The Lurker squealed then roughly lurched before falling to the ground dragging her down with it. Gwen spat the foul blood from her mouth and kicked herself free of the Lurker.

The Lurkers at the end of the corridor slowly approached as she scrambled across the floor against the wall to keep some distance between them. One of the Lurkers chittered something at her and stepped away from the others. She shouted, “ _Yol Toor Shul!”_ The flames, again, immediately died. Tears spilled down her cheeks; she couldn’t stay trapped in hellish library. The Lurker crept forward and chittered at her again. “No!” she screamed at it. It approached again, and she kicked at it with her good leg as she pressed herself against the wall, “ _NO!_ ”. It stopped just out of range of her legs and lowered itself until it was at the same level as her. This was strange behaviour for a Lurker. She flicked her eyes towards the other Lurkers, the huge one had moved closer but stopped the moment she spotted it. The Lurker that was crouched down extended a tentacle towards her very slowly, from the end of it hung a silvery pendant. Gwen stared at it. It looked familiar, but she couldn’t place why. But it was _important_ to her; like a niggling light at the back of her mind that was straining to find it’s way through the darkness. Her focus snapped away from the pendant swinging in front of her as the big Lurker suddenly lashed a tentacle around her good ankle yanking her across the floor towards it. It grabbed her and spat in her mouth as she opened to scream clamping a tentacle across her face forcing her to swallow the foul poison or suffocate; then she knew no more.

* * *

“The fog is lifting. She’ll be herself again,” Cole said softly, brushing matted strands of red hair from Gwen’s forehead, then left the room.

“Her leg has been broken and hasn’t been properly set. It needs to be rebroken before it can be healed. It would be kinder to do it now while she’s unconscious, but I am very concerned that with the stresses she’s been under for the past few weeks, the shock might be too much,” Solas explained to Rylen. “The saar-qamek still needs to leave her system and she needs to regain her strength to recuperate even with magical healing.” Rylen nodded absently, never taking his eyes off the woman in front of him. “I will leave you then. Call if you need anything,” the mage said and left the room.

Varric patted Rylen on the shoulder, “don’t worry. Rosy’s a fighter, she’ll pull through this just you wait and see. She’ll be knocking us all flat on our asses in no time.”

Rylen sat at the edge of the bed beside Gwen. The ship’s lantern swayed overhead casting her face in light and then shadow as it swung back and forth. Bruises and abrasions in bands of red, purple, and black coiled around each arm from fingertips to above the elbow. Silvery marks littered her shoulders from the strain on the joints from being pulled back without relief for so long. A dark bruise circled her neck under her jaw as did fingerprints; some of them were Bull’s from when he grabbed her to get the antidote and sedative into her on the Asaara, but there were other older, deeper bruises that told a tale of her treatment. The corners of her mouth and lips were chapped and abraded from the gag. With Solas’ help, they had carefully wiped her skin, put her into a clean gown, and healed some of her injuries. Both of them had worked silently, grim countenances at the evidence of abuse on her. It made him heartsore to see how much she had suffered.

Rylen gently slid his hand under hers, letting her hand – fingertips cold against his wrist – rest in his own as he bent his head over it. A sob choked him, and then he started to pray.

* * *

Light flickered beyond her eyelids for the first time in – well, Gwen couldn’t remember how long. She kept her eyes closed and reached out with her other senses trying to make sense of the changes around her; she no longer felt the oppressive weight of the Aprocrypha, nor did her surroundings feel, smell, or sound like Sovngarde as she remembered it so she wasn’t dead after all. She could smell salt water, and the musky, sweaty odour of people. The ground shifted but did so with a gentle rocking motion rather than the strange lurching it did before. In the distance, she could hear voices, the words were indistinct, but it no longer had the chittering sound she feared. She turned her senses inwards; her lower leg was still a throbbing pain, but the bindings around her head and neck were gone. Her arms and shoulders ached fiercely but they were also no longer bound behind her. Something warm and firm lay under her left hand; she twitched her fingers and brushed against silky strands of fur – no hair – at her fingertips. She shifted her hand slightly catching her fingers in the strands, and then it moved. Gwen gasped.

Rylen raised his head as the soft tug in his hair woke him. He lifted his head and looked at Gwen, “Gwen? Lass? Wake up mo ghràdh, you’re safe.”

“Too bright,” she whispered.

Immediately Rylen stood up and adjusted the shutters on the lantern to dim the light in the cabin. “All right lass, you can open your eyes now.” He sat back down beside her and slid a hand back under hers while shading her eyes with the other.

Gwen’s eyelids fluttered as she slowly opened her eyes, cringing at the still bright light having spent weeks behind a blindfold. She turned her head towards Rylen; he looked haggard and worn, dark shadows circled his eyes, and his hair stuck up in all directions. “You look terrible, dii su’um,” she whispered.

Rylen barked in laughter. “Sorry,” he said softly when she flinched at the loud noise. He lowered the hand that sheltered her eyes and tucked a stray bit of hair behind her ear. “I’m truly happy that you can make jokes, lass. We have all been worried sick about you. How are you feeling?”

“Thirsty. And hungry. And in desperate need of a bath,” she said wrinkling her nose.

He smiled fondly at her, “we’ll see about a bath as soon as possible.” He reached over and picked up the cup of water and held it to her lips to drink. “I’ll see about some food,” he said starting to get up.

Gwen clutched at his hand with her fingers, her eyes wild, “don’t leave me,” she whispered.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll just…” he trailed off as she frantically grabbed at his hand. “Shhhshhh. I’m here.” He sat back down beside her, and she calmed down.

The door creaked open slightly. “I heard,” Cole said quietly. “I’ll get food.” The door closed again softly.

“Did Liesel, Shadowmere...?”

“Yes, Shadowmere got Liesel to Skyhold safely, and she told us everything. She wanted to come help rescue you, but she was so exhausted she couldn’t even stand. She’ll be thrilled to see you.” A soft knock on the door announced Solas who came with a steaming mug which he handed to Rylen, and a bundle of bandages and other items. Gwen struggled to sit up. “Wait lass, let me help you. We don’t want you moving around too much just yet. Are you going to be all right if I sit behind you?” Gwen nodded. Once Rylen had sat down behind her so she could lean against him, Solas handed the mug to him again to help Gwen drink it.

“We’ll start slow on food; you haven’t eaten in a while and your stomach will reject food if you eat too much, too quickly. We need to fix your leg.” Solas carefully lifted the sheet from her leg. Gwen could see that the contours of her leg didn’t follow the normal straight path. “It’s already starting to set so we need to straighten it before it can continue to heal.” Solas looked up at her, “I’m sorry da'isenatha. With your resistance to magic, I can not put you to sleep, and we dare not give you any more potions to sedate you. I can give you something for pain, but that is all.”

Gwen swallowed hard, and nodded. “Okay.” Solas removed a small vial from the bundle and poured it into a cup mixing it with a little water then handed it to Rylen to help her drink. “You better gag me; I don’t want to accidently shout at you.”

“Gwen…” Rylen frowned.

“No Rylen, I’m serious. I’d hate to set everyone on fire or something. It’s safer.”

“Here, bite down on this,” Solas handed over a tightly rolled bandage.

Rylen placed the roll between her teeth and gently turned her head away from watching Solas. He kissed her on the forehead, and whispered against her skin, “I’ve got you, mo ghràdh.”

“On the count of three…” Solas said. Gwen closed her eyes. “One…” Rylen struggled to stay seated as Gwen arched up violently against him as an unbearable pressure abruptly entered her leg. She screamed behind the gag as the bones shifted, and then went limp in his arms.

* * *

When Gwen woke up again, it was Varric sitting beside her bed instead of Rylen. “Hey there Rosy, take it easy,” he told her when she started struggling to sit up. He got up from his seat and propped her up with some pillows then gave her a cup of water. “You need me to get anyone for you? Are you in pain; should I get Solas?”

Gwen shook her head. “I’m okay. Where’s Rylen?”

“We made him get some sleep. Max made it an order to get him to do so. The man has been beside himself with worry; we all have.”

“How did you find me?”

“Leliana had her scouts watching for you and the Qunari all over Thedas. We got a lead in Lydes. Uh, how much do you remember?”

Gwen frowned, “I thought I was back in the Apocrypha – it’s this library of floating platforms, moving hallways, and these horrid creatures.” She shuddered. “But sometimes…” she trailed off. “Sometimes I thought I’d been buried alive,” she said quietly.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Cole relayed that one to us once; thought Rylen was going to lose it right then and there. They stuck you in a weapons chest whenever they moved you. No one had seen you since you got off the ferry at Lydes with Liesel over two weeks ago.”

“Two weeks?”

“Yeah. We finally caught up with you at sea with the help of my pirate friend, Isabela. We’re on her ship now. You put up one helluva fight when we boarded the qunari ship. You killed one qunari yourself, we found her burnt up in a cabin, and were doing a pretty fine job of distracting another so Bianca could take care of him. Tried to toast us pretty good too.”

The blood drained from Gwen’s face, “in the corridor. Not Lurkers.” She raised a shaky hand to her face with the realisation that she tried _twice_ to kill her friends and the man she… she shied away from that thought. “I’m _so_ sorry.”

“Hey, it’s all right. Cole warned us that you weren’t in your right mind and that you were still fighting, Dorian and Solas provided barriers and extinguished the flames. We all know that you weren’t trying to hurt _us_. Quite honestly, we were happy to see you were still fighting despite everything.” They sat silently for a few minutes until Gwen’s stomach gave a particularly loud growl.  Varric grinned, “so I take it you’d like something to eat?” He got up from the chair and walked to the door. Gwen inadvertently made a sound of protest; but Varric merely opened the door and said something to someone on the other side then returned to his seat.

A few minutes later Dorian swept into the room with tray including a pot of tea and a pair of cups. “My turn,” he said cheerfully shooing Varric out the door. He checked the healing progress on her hands, wrists, and arms, and leg, then when satisfied handed her the bowl of stew before reclining gracefully in the chair next to her bed. “Love, you have men lined up waiting to take care of you. I’m almost jealous.”

Gwen burst out laughing, “thank you Dorian. I needed that.” After eating most of the stew, which really was more of a thick broth, Dorian took the bowl from her as her hand started to shake with fatigue. “Where are we now?”

“We are halfway between Kirkwall and Jader; we should arrive at Jader this evening. I, for one, will be happy to settle in an inn for the night with a hot bath and a soft bed. There is a lovely little inn on the edge of the city, the mistress there makes the most wonderful cream cakes.”

“Better than the frilly cakes you can get in Val Royeaux?”

“Far better than those pretentious crumbs,” he said dismissively.

Gwen laughed again. “You are such as snob.” She suddenly yawned.

Dorian smirked getting up to help her settle into the bed, “don’t stay awake on my account. One of us will be here when you wake up.”

* * *

Gwen heard the sound of pouring water, crackling fire, and murmured males and female voices as she struggled from the grip of sleep. Calloused fingertips ran gently down her cheek, “wake up, lass. Your bath is ready, and there are a pair of very nice lady’s maids here to tend you.” Gwen mumbled something to Rylen. He chuckled, “we’re in Jader. You fell asleep after your lunch with Dorian and wouldn’t wake up again when we arrived. Had the city guard in a right tizzy seeing a bunch of men carry an unconscious woman, wearing naught but a shift and wrapped in a cloak, off a pirate ship. Come on, wake up now; can’t have you drowning in your bathtub.” Once she was awake, he scooped her up and carried her over to the bath tub, only to hesitate.

The older of the two lady’s maids tutted at him, “just set my lady in the bath in her shift, we’ll take care of the rest. We’ll call you when you’re needed to lift her out, ser.”

Rylen set her on her good leg in the bath and let her go when she was balanced. The hem of the shift floated on the surface of the bath at her knees. His mouth went dry at the thoughts his mind conjured of the wet shift clinging to her skin; with a sharp nod he left her to the tender ministrations of the women.

“I’m Eloise, and this is Martha,” she said introducing the younger woman. “Now, let’s just get the shift off you,” the older woman said matter-of-factly quickly unlacing the ties at the neck. “I’ve been told your arms have been injured so we’ll just let it drop into the bath and scoot it out from under you once you’re seated. It needs a wash in any case.” She let the shift drop to the water; behind her, Gwen heard the younger woman gasp. Eloise shot the woman a look.

“I’m sorry my lady,” Martha said softly. “Should I get a healer for you, or a potion?”

Gwen shook her head, “no thank you. Solas – the elf mage – has been tending my injuries.”

Eloise helped Gwen sit down into the bath, draping her hair over the side of the bath, then carefully working the shift out from under her broken leg. “Look after this Martha,” she said handing the young maid the wet, dirty garment, “then you can start working on getting the tangles out of my lady’s hair before we wash it.”

After a few minutes of discomfort at having someone else bathe her, Gwen let herself relax into the hot water luxuriating in the sensation of being clean again, especially her hair that had been matted with sweat, blood, and dust for so long. It seemed all too soon that the bath was over. Dried and dressed in a clean shift and a robe to keep her warm, Rylen carried her to the private dining room that Max had arranged for their group. He settled her on a chaise and carefully tucked the blankets around her legs to keep her warm.

“You’re going to start clucking soon, Knight-Captain, the way you are fussing over Rosy,” Varric joked.

Gwen looked up at Rylen and clutched at his collar to give him a kiss in front of everyone else before he had a chance to pull away and protest Varric’s “mother hen” comment. Rylen preened at the attention making Gwen bite back a smile as the others chuckled. “Thank you all for coming after me,” Gwen said glancing at each and everyone of them, except Bull. “And I’m sorry for trying to kill you,” she added.

Max grinned, “think nothing of it Gwennie. Cole warned us so we’re none the worse for wear. Um, you probably want to know… We killed them all.”

Gwen gave a sharp nod. “Good. Now I can forget it ever happened.” Bull narrowed his eye as he watched her, but she studiously refused to make eye contact with him or even acknowledge that he was in the room. If the others noticed, they didn’t say anything.

On the way back to Skyhold, Rylen, Max, and Dorian took turns carrying Gwen in front of them as they rode making sure that she stayed comfortable and warm. They rode into the bailey at Skyhold and Gwen was touched, but also slightly embarrassed, by all the attention she received. Blackwall all but shoved Cullen out of the way to help her off Rylen’s horse, grumbling that handling a lady against plate mail was a terrible thing to do. Cullen’s ears turned red as he followed the gruff older man into the keep and into Josephine’s office where Gwen was deposited on the chaise before the fire. The inner circle left to return to whatever they were doing, those that had rescued Gwen headed to their own quarters to unpack. Rylen hung back against the wall while Max and his advisors debriefed Gwen.

“Liesel provided your packs to us when she arrived, so we do have the contracts from the House of Repose on Josephine’s life, as well as a few other interesting contracts you managed to find when you infiltrated their organisation,” Leliana summarized. “Is there anything else we need to know?”

“Keep an eye out for a merchant by the name of Ponchard de Lieux. He was going to use leverage against Dorian to gather favour with the Inquisition to gain entrance to the Celestine League. I have removed his bargaining chip, and advised him that if he wanted to gain that favour, he should make himself useful.” Josephine made some notes and Gwen continued. “There is a young elf by the name of Feylhen. He should have arrived with the last shipment of supplies from from Val Royeaux. I met him when I infiltrated the headquarters of the Orlesian thieves’ guild.” Leliana perked up, interested. “He will be of no use to you, Leliana; he can’t pick locks, terrible at sneaking, and no desire to improve those skills, but he has an interest in apprenticing with the blacksmiths. I’m hoping the Inquisition can find him a place.”

“How did you know to find the thieves’ guild in Val Royeaux?” Leliana asked.

Gwen chuckled, “I saw markings on the buildings that gave me an inkling. Then when I saw Feylhen looking for a mark, I set it up so that he’d pickpocket Liesel. After that, it was a simple matter of following him to the guild. Just so you are aware, I have membership to that guild now.”

Leliana giggled as Cullen’s brows shot up, “how very useful, Gwen.”

“If you happen to hear anything about a thief by the name of ‘Eostig’, that would be me,” Gwen added.

“And what does ‘Eostig’ mean?” the spymaster asked.

Gwen smirked, “Nightingale.” Leliana laughed.

* * *

After the debriefing, Rylen carried Gwen back to her quarters where a tearful Liesel met her. Rylen slipped out to let the women reunite mentioning that he needed to speak with Cullen. Liesel threw herself to the floor in front of Gwen once she had been seated, “I’m so sorry, I never should have left you!”

Gwen reached out to gently coax her to make eye contact, “you did exactly as I asked. No one will ever fault you for that. If you hadn’t left me, you would be dead, and I would be on my way to Seheron or Par Vollen never to be seen again. I am _proud_ of you, Liesel.” She tugged the elf from the floor and the two women hugged each other. “No more tears Liesel. All right? It’s over now.” Liesel sniffed and nodded.

Liesel left for a training session with a couple of the Chargers that had kindly taken her under their wing while Gwen was missing, and she found herself alone in her quarters. She unpacked a few things that had remained in her saddle bags, hopping around the room slowly to put things away. With nothing left to occupy herself until Rylen or Liesel returned, exhaustion crept over her until finally she fell asleep.

The sound of something moving, and a sharp snap woke Gwen. The room was completely dark but for a tiny red glow from the fire. Something moved by the fire by the end of the bed. She carefully pulled herself up and reached towards her side table, silently trying to find something – anything – to defend herself. She swore at herself for leaving her daggers on the side board; she left them there to sharpen later and now they were inaccessible to her. She couldn’t help the whimper that escaped when her fingers pushed the unlit candle and holder of the table to clatter on the floor. The dark shape at the fire suddenly rose looming at the end of the bed. She screamed and threw the tumbler that she managed to grasp at the dark shape.

Rylen jumped when Gwen screamed and then grunted when an object sailed through the dark room to hit him in the shoulder. “Lass, it’s all right. It’s me!” He ducked out of her line of fire and fumbled to light a set of candles on the table. Turning, he heart dropped as his eyes came to a rest on her huddled against the headboard of the bed; arms wrapped around her knees pulled up against her chest. “I’m so sorry lass. That was utterly thoughtless of me.” His head turned to the sound of a fist pounding on the door. He opened the door, Gwen could hear murmured voices, male and female, as well as the sound of metal being slid back into a scabbard. He closed the door and returned to her. “You were sleeping when I came in so didn’t light the candles to disturb you. I’ll light the candles first next time.”

Gwen nodded then dropped her head against her thighs and sobbed. Rylen crooned to her, pulling her onto his lap when she started to relax a bit. “I’m sorry; I’m such a mess. You don’t…”

“Stop. You have nothing to apologize for. Nothing,” he said firmly, gently cupping her jaw so she had to look at him. “And I’m not going anywhere. Not now; not ever. It broke my heart to see you on that ship. You stared and screamed at me like you didn’t even know who I was; never have I been so scared of losing anyone before in my life.”

“I didn’t know it was you. What I saw,” Gwen shuddered. “It wasn’t human, elven, dwarven, or even qunari. It wasn’t until I saw the pendant that made me think that something wasn’t right with what I was seeing.”

“Oh, this pendant,” Rylen said pulling out the Amulet of Mara from his collar. “Would you like it back?”

“Yes, please. Do you have Nera’s as well?” He nodded his head and put both pendants back on for her; she sighed happily stroking her fingers across them briefly. Gwen lifted her free hand and traced across his brow, skating her fingers across his cheekbone, down along his jaw, then stroked her thumb across his lower lip. Rylen’s eyes darkened with the desire she was invoking, but he steeled himself; it was too soon, she was too fragile from the trauma and injuries. “I love you, dii su’um” she said softly, gazing at him.

Rylen sucked in a jagged breath, surprised by her confession. “I love you too. You called me that before; what does ‘dii su’um’ mean?”

“The literal translation is ‘my breath’. It means the ‘source of one’s being’; my ‘heart and soul’.”

He rested his forehead against her temple, “you are my heart and soul, also.”


	29. The Road to Recovery

Magic was a wonderful thing for healing injuries, but it didn’t exclude the need for time. Time for the body to recover from the shock of the injury, time to adjust to the magic forcing the injured flesh back to the right place, and time for the body to simply  _forget_  the insults made against it. Gwen spent the first few days back in Skyhold resting, long bouts of sleeping between short visits from friends; many that came to share a meal with her and keep her entertained with the daily gossip. She appreciated their efforts to keep her company, she truly did; however, she was restless. Being idle and cooped up indoors grated on her nerves and frayed her mind giving her nasty little flashbacks of the confinement she had just escaped. She wasn’t used to being still for long periods of time, always having some task to do, some place to be to keep her busy, or at the very least, a daily routine of training and making plans for the next outing. And, she only had so much magicka she could use to stick a multitude of magelights in interesting patterns on the ceiling.

A solid knock on the door came just as her dagger buried itself into the wood of that same door. “Come!” she called impatiently.

“Can I come in?” Blackwall asked peaking around the edge of the door.

“Of course,” Gwen replied pulling herself up in the chair that she was slouched in. He slipped through the doorway, glancing at the knives sticking in the door. The thin ropes attached to the handles of the daggers made him raise his eyebrow.

“Bored?” His mustache and beard wiggled slightly giving away his lopsided smile.

Gwen gave the ropes a sharp yank, one by one, catching the daggers as they released from the wood. “You could say that.”

“Well then; I have just the thing to spare your door from becoming kindling.” He pulled out a short staff from behind his back and held it up before her. The staff was fairly organic in nature, not much carving or refinement had been done to its length other than scraping the bark off and giving it a polish, but at the top, a horse’s head and neck had been carved and stained black, then banded in iron securing it to the staff.

“I don’t use a staff for magic…” She gave him a puzzled look.

“No, but you could perhaps use one to help you get around while your leg is healing,” Blackwall said holding it out to her.

“Oh!” Gwen jumped out of the chair forcing Blackwall to grab her elbow to steady her in her excitement. “Thank you! Did you make this yourself?”

“Yes. Shadowmere has been lurking around the stables and made a good model. Shall we test it out and take a stroll around the keep, my lady?” he said sketching a courtly bow in jest.

“Absolutely!”

Together they made their way from Gwen’s quarters into the Great Hall where they stopped to chat with Varric, then out through Solas’ area to the causeway for some fresh air. The best of all was joining everyone that dined in the hall instead of being stuck in her room with a single dinner guest. At the end of his duties for the day, Rylen sat down beside her and wrapped his arm around her waist to give her a kiss on her temple. “Here you are! Have a good day?”

“Yes! Blackwall made me a walking stick; I can get out on my own without having to wait for someone to lean on.”

Rylen nodded his thanks to the older man. “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

Gwen beamed at him, “tomorrow I’m going to do a little sightseeing,” she shot a wink at Dorian, “and then a bit of archery practice, I think. My arms and shoulders are feeling better, so I can start with that since I don’t need to move around too much.” He hummed, happy to see signs of her normal self start to re-emerge.

* * *

Gwen hobbled out to her usual spot on the ramparts and carefully lowered herself down into the shadows of the wall. It really did feel good to be getting back to her normal routine, and it certainly didn’t hurt to be able to watch the soldiers go through their paces. She automatically smiled back as she caught Rylen’s eye from where he stood down by the sparring ring critiquing some of the soldiers.

She caught a whiff of perfume as steps approached her; she didn’t even need to look to see who it was. “Hi Dorian. Come to watch the latest recruits?”

Dorian hummed in reply as he sat down beside her and leaned against the wall as he studied her. The shadows around her eyes were fading as were the last traces of the wounds on her face, neck, and hands, but he wondered about the less visible wounds such as those to her mind. “How are you today, love? Getting out and about seems to be doing wonders for you.”

“Yes. I was starting to feel a little crazed being cooped up in my quarters. To much confinement lately,” she frowned on the last comment.

“Ah well then. The view will most likely help.”

They sat quietly together for a little while before Gwen suddenly remembered she had something for him. “Oh Dorian! Come back to my quarters with me; I have something for you.”

“A gift? You shouldn’t have,” he teased as he gave her a hand to help her to her feet.

They made their way back to Gwen’s quarters and she immediately started rummaging in her saddle bags while he casually glanced around her room. The scars in the back of the door made him raise an eyebrow which he quickly dropped as she turned back around to him. “Hold out your hands,” she held her own hands out towards him, cupped to hide whatever it was that she held.

“You better not be giving me something disgusting.”

Gwen snorted, “would I do that to you?” Dorian raised a brow again and she laughed. “I’m not Sera. Don’t worry, it’s completely safe.”

He held out his hands and she dropped whatever it was into his outstretched palm; he immediately felt a familiar thrum of magic. “It’s… The Pavus Birthright. Why?” he gasped as he looked down at his amulet. He looked up at her, annoyed, “what did you do?”

Gwen flinched, “I thought you’d be happy to have this back?”

“When I left home, I wanted nothing so much as to divest myself of anything belonging to my family. I sold it because I was desperate.” He sighed, “it was childish to sell it and I wanted to get it back on my own.” He paced around her room, “what I didn’t want is to be indebted to anyone else. Now I am.”

She frowned, “how are you indebted to me? You didn’t ask me to do it.”

“But you did go and retrieve it for me. Now I’m in your debt. Worse still, someone intelligent could use your involvement as precedent. They’ll say that the Inquisitor’s companions are using the Inquisition’s influence for their own personal gain.”

“Firstly, Dorian, I found out about the amulet by myself. No one told me about it, I over-heard de Lieux mention it. Second, de Lieux never saw me nor did I identify myself when I retrieved the amulet so there is no trace back to the Inquisition; I’m better than that. Third, you’re welcome.” Gwen snatched up her bow and quiver and stomped – limped – out of her quarters and left him standing there.

She headed down to the archery butts by the stables and spent a few hours training with her bow; getting the kinks and stiffness out of her arms and shoulders. All the while she muttered and grumbled about stubborn, proud altus mages, which kept everyone away from bothering her. As the day wore on, she headed back to her quarters to drop off her weapons, got cleaned up, and headed back to the Great Hall for dinner.

“Gwen,” Dorian called to her as he exited the rotunda. “I… am apparently an incredible ass when it comes to accepting gifts. I apologize, and I thank you.” He bowed to her, then pulled her into a hug. “Forgive me?”

“Of course.”

They strolled over to Varric’s table to join him; Max and Cassandra were already there. “Ah Sparkler, Rosy – are you joining us this evening?”

“Yes, I – ” Gwen suddenly stiffened and cast a quick glance at the main doors to the hall. “Actually, I’m feeling a bit tired. I’m going to grab a plate and return to my quarters.” She excused herself leaving the others looking perplexed at her sudden change.

Varric looked at the door as it opened revealing Bull. He frowned in thought. “Hey Tiny, I think you might need to bathe more often.”

Bull flicked his eye to the hallway and caught a glimpse of the red hair as it disappeared around the corner. “Wouldn’t make a difference; she doesn’t let on but she knows exactly where every single one of us are.”

“She’s still avoiding you?” Max asked.

Cassandra frowned, “what have you…”

She was interrupted as Cole appeared in the middle of the table startling all of them. “Geez Kid, a little warning would be nice,” Varric muttered.

“She feels bad. She knows you’re not to blame, but she’s afraid. She’s not ready to face you just yet.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

“She’s afraid of you?” Cassandra still looked confused.

“Yeah, think about it. She was captured, held, and drugged by Qunari. The last Qunari to touch her when she was in that drug-induced terror dragged her across the floor and forced another potion down her throat – me. She knows logically it wasn’t done for malice, but in her state of mind…”

“You should have seen her Cassandra,” Max said quietly. “She was out of her mind terrified and didn’t recognize any of us. Not even Rylen.”

“But if she didn’t recognize you…?”

“Scent. Her dragon blood heightens her senses; she still associates my scent with that terror.” Cassandra finally understood.

“As soon as she can fight, she’ll face you,” Cole said.

“Yeah, I know that too,” Bull said with a sigh. “Hey ‘Vint, do me a favor?” Dorian gave him a long-suffering look. “Don’t let me burn too long when she lights my ass on fire.”

* * *

Once Solas gave her the all-clear with her leg, Gwen started back training and sparring sessions with Liesel and slowly worked back into her regular rhythm. The bruises and marks had all faded, and so too did the pain and stiffness in her shoulders and arms. While she had occasional bouts of sleeplessness and bad dreams which was to be expected if she was honest with herself, the one thing that still bothered her was Iron Bull. She knew that he wasn’t to blame with what had happened; she had sat down and discussed what intelligence had been passed to the Ben-Hassrath with Leliana, and she agreed that they hadn’t been told anything compromising. And yet, when Bull was close by she felt an overwhelming sense of dread and anger roll over her. She was the Dragonborn,  _Oblivion take her_ ; she didn’t back down from a fight, but she had been actively avoiding him for weeks. No one said anything to her, but it was becoming obvious that they were aware of the situation and it was making things a might bit uncomfortable for everyone. It had to stop. She just needed to grab the bull by the horns,  _pun intended_ , she snickered to herself, and face him.

Today would be the day.

Gwen wrapped herself in her regular armour, letting it settle around her like a second skin. Harritt had done a good job making the repairs and reconditioning it after it sat in the ditch along the Imperial Highway for a week until Rylen had found it. She left her weapons where they were; she’d be using blunted weapons when she sparred so there was no reason to carry them with her.

She strode through the Great Hall completely focused on her destination that she uncharacteristically acknowledged Varric’s cheerful greeting with the barest of nods as she headed out the doors. He watched her go and sighed, he had better get Dorian just in case. She headed down the stairs and to the sparring ring with a casual stride that belied her focus.

Bull noticed Gwen the moment she emerged from the Hall; she might have looked casual as she came over to where he was at the edge of the training field, but she was anything but. He continued to chat with Krem as he leaned against the fence never taking his eye off her as she made her way through the people going about their business in the bailey. Instinctively people around her made way as if sensing a predator amongst them. It was hot,  _damned hot_  the way she moved, and if he was honest with himself, he more than a little envious of Rylen. “How’s it going, Gwen?” he asked as she approached them. Krem turned around and greeted her then made his excuses to leave the two of them alone.

“I’m good Bull. Feeling like sparring with me today?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he grinned.

She gave a casual shrug, “wanted to make sure I was one hundred percent; wouldn’t want to make it easy for you.”

“Same rules as before. Until the first one yields?” If Bull wasn’t watching closely, he never would have seen the flicker in her jaw at his words. Now he knew.

“Sure.” She turned her back on him, selected two swords from the practice rack, then ducked under the fence to the sparring ring taking up position in the center of the ring, crossing her arms with the swords pointed up over her shoulders as she waited for him. Bull chose a battle axe from the rack and strolled into the ring, giving Dorian, Varric, and Max a nod as they arrived and leaned on the fence.

“Let’s do this. You gonna make me go first like last time, or…”

Bull never got to finish his question as Gwen exploded at him driving him immediately onto his back foot and on the defense. The swords were swinging in a blur around her striking at him from a variety of directions and speeds, she even changed the rhythm of her hits to keep him guessing. When the blades weren’t trying to get through his guard, she was ducking and weaving around him to keep him moving. He grunted when a pommel strike caught him on the ribs or hips, the flat of the blades cracking him across the arms and thighs.

“Fuuuuck,” Bull growled as Gwen slammed the pommel of one of her swords into his elbow; the nerves fired rendering his arm numb. On her next swing, Bull suddenly dropped his great axe and grabbed her armour pulling her off balance and flinging her into the dirt at the other end of the ring.

“Had enough yet, Bull?” Dorian inquired as he watched Gwen jump to her feet and spin around to face her opponent.

“Come on,” he taunted her. “Quit dancing around. I thought you wanted a fight? I could take you with both hands tied behind my back.”

Gwen went utterly still.

“Shit – you had to poke the dragon,” Varric muttered.

“ _Su Grah Dun!_ ” Gwen screamed at him, her eyes glowing as the dragon souls rose to her command. She raced across the ring and slammed into him. If he thought her hits before were hard to track, he found them impossible to counter now with the power of the shout speeding up her strikes. He blocked one sword with the great axe and the blade snapped sending the broken eighteen inches of metal flying to embed in the dirt outside of the ring. Gwen quickly switched hands and regripped the broken piece to use like a dagger to guard with and came at him again.

“ _Fus Ro Dah!_ ” Bull stumbled, dropping to one knee as he lost his footing under the force of the shout. Gwen took advantage and locked the great axe between the two swords and twisted it out of his grip. She batted his hands away with the flat of the sword and crossed both blades under his chin forcing his head back. “I. Will. Not. Yield,” she snarled in his face, teeth bared as she held his gaze.

Slowly, carefully, Bull raised his hands and gently gripped her hands on the sword hilts. “You didn’t,” he said quietly holding her gaze right back. She growled at him, pressing into his hands. “You didn’t,” Bull repeated. Unbidden tears welled up in Gwen’s eyes. “You didn’t,” Bull said again. She released a shuddering breath and lowered the swords; the tears trembled on her lashes as Bull pulled her into a hug, and then she cried out all the fear, pain, and anger she had been carrying for the past several weeks since being captured by the Qunari. When she regained her equilibrium, she pushed herself out of Bull’s arms faintly embarrassed by the display on her part. “Are we good, Asaaranda?”

“Asaaranda?” she asked wiping away her tears briskly.

“Yeah, means thunderstorm. All fury and violence, followed by peace and calm; it suits you.”

“Hmmm. Yeah Bull, we’re good.”

“Good,” Bull groaned. “I’m going to find myself a hot bath and a healing potion.”

“Oh, here; I can help with that.”

“You’re gonna come and join me in the bath?” he teased. “This day just keeps getting better and better.”

Gwen blushed and swatted him on the chest, “no! I can help with the healing. What you do in the bath is your own business.” Bull opened his mouth to say something else, but she cut him off, “I do  _not_  want to know.” She cast her healing spell and let the golden light wash over Bull from head to toe; he noticeably perked up.

“Wow! That felt… unlike any healing spell I’ve felt before. That was nice and best of all, no itching. The boss should bring you out on the road with us more often.” He rolled his shoulders and gave a laugh, “niiiiice.” He clapped her on the shoulder, “see you in the tavern for drinks later?” Gwen nodded. He grinned and strode away to the baths.

“Are you really all right, love?” Dorian asked sidling up to her as she walked back to her quarters.

“Yeah, I am. I finally feel back to my normal self again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay getting this chapter out - I wanted to address Gwen's recovery but it fought me a bit.
> 
> I decided to try my own personal, unofficial NaNoWriMo. I managed 35318 words. I'm pretty impressed with myself. Not bad for having started this whole writing thing back in May of this year.
> 
> Thank you all for your kind comments and kudos - they are most appreciated and keep me going! :)


	30. A Pledge of Arms

Gwen was puzzled as to why she was being requested to attend one of the meetings with the Inquisitor and the advisors. She pondered that as she hurried through Josephine’s office noting that the ambassador was not present but must already be in the war room. She could hear voices at the end of the hall as she skirted the broken stones in the hallway. _Seriously, we’ve been here for months; why haven’t the masons fixed these holes yet or at least stacked the stones out of the way?_ Gwen knocked on the door and entered the room to find everyone already present.

“Ah, good. You received the message. Please come in and join us,” Josephine waved her over to an open spot at the war table.

“We’ve received word from our dwarven contacts in Orzammar that there have been numerous quakes occurring on the Storm Coast. They’ve asked for our help to investigate these as it effects their lyrium mining operations of which we are one of their primary customers,” Leliana explained.

“Lyrium is not only essential for our templars,” Cullen said. Gwen refrained from making a face; she wasn’t happy with that aspect of the lyrium particularly as it effected Rylen. If Cullen noticed any reaction on her part, he ignored it and continued, “it is also essential for enchanting items such as for weapons and armour, so it is imperative that the supply lines remain open.”

“All right. What is my involvement with this?” Gwen asked.

“The mine is here,” Leliana pointed to the map. A small marker already stood on that location; one they had placed just after she discovered the presence of dragon walls in Thedas. The wall she determined was located underground.

Gwen looked up in surprise at her, “we have a way in?”

“Yes. But we must ask,” Max said. “Could the presence of these words of power have any influence on these quakes?”

She frowned, “I wouldn’t see why they would. I’ve found dozens of walls underground in temples, caverns, and there has never been any quake activity as a result. Most things, creatures, what have you, aren’t even aware of the power that is present in the walls. Dorian and Solas did with the one in the Hinterlands, but they’re mages. Did you feel anything, Max?”

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t realize that there was anything different about the wall until you walked closer and those lights emerged from the stone.”

“I suppose since lyrium is a source of magical power; that it could react to the power of the word, but why now suddenly?”

“Could it be your presence in this world?” Cullen asked.

Gwen held her hands up helplessly, “I’m sorry I can’t help you. I don’t know what the walls do if there isn’t a Dragonborn in the world. I don’t know what they did before I became, and I don’t know what the walls at home are doing now I’ve left. I do know that once I’ve taken the word, the power emanating from the walls stops.”

“Whether they are the cause or not, you will need to go with us. We’ll be leaving in three days time.”

Gwen bowed her head to Max, “understood.”

“One more thing, Gwen.” Max reached into his pocket and pulled out an amulet. “I will be stopping in Crestwood to check in at Caer Bronach and our forces there, but I’d like you to continue to the Storm Coast to challenge the Blades of Hessarian as the Inquisition’s champion.” He dropped the amulet in her hands.

“The Inquisition’s champion? What are you talking about?” Gwen looked at each of the advisors and back to Max, confused.

“The Blades of Hessarian are an ancient Andrastian military organization that are meant to bring justice against the corrupt; however, as of late, they have fallen to banditry and are preying upon those they are meant to protect. They have killed our scouts on the Storm Coast, but we found a message that someone bearing the Mercy’s Crest can challenge the leader for the loyalty of the group,” Leliana explained.

“So… what does this have to do with me?”

Max gave her a crooked smile, “let’s face it Gwennie; we’ve all seen you fight. You _are_ the best the Inquisition has particularly one-on-one duels.” She opened her mouth to argue. “Please Gwen, I need you to do this. We won’t send you in alone; I’ll make sure you’re well protected, but you will need to challenge their leader yourself.”

“Well since you asked so nicely…” Gwen bowed her head again to Max.

* * *

Gwen endured some good-natured teasing from the group as they left Skyhold. It was the first time she had left the keep since her capture by the Qunari; Rylen had been particularly attentive to her when everyone had gathered in the bailey ready to leave, imploring her to be careful especially going into the Deep Roads. It didn’t help that she winced slightly as she settled into the saddle; he _had_ been very attentive the previous night and that morning not having left for his own quarters after their night cap as he normally did. Cole assured him that he’d stay close to her, and now rode behind Gwen on Shadowmere; the spirit horse accepting the spirit boy with no hesitation.

“Didn’t think the good Captain was going to let you go, Rosy,” Varric said grinning as they rode out of Skyhold.

“Hmm, you’d think he’d just keep you tied to the bed,” Bull said was a leer. Gwen glared at him. “What? Too soon?”

“She’s like writhing flame in my hands. Her smile is like a balm to my soul, and keeps the whispers of blue quiet. Maker, keep her safe,” Cole said quietly from where he sat behind Gwen.

Varric cleared his throat, “uh Kid, that probably one of those things you shouldn’t be saying aloud.”

“But it makes her happy because she feels that way too.” Gwen blushed and reached back patting him on the leg.

“So, I’m kind of curious Max,” Gwen said trying to change the subject, “you always take Cassandra out with you but not this time. I could see not bringing Vivienne, but you didn’t bring Sera either. Why?”

“I didn’t want to endanger any of the women taking them into the Deep Roads.”

She looked at him for a moment, “um, Max – you know I’m a woman, right?”

Max flushed. “Yeah… If it wasn’t for the dragon wall, you wouldn’t be coming either.” The others muttered their agreement.

“What’s the big deal about women and the Deep Roads?” Gwen asked looking from each man to the other. They shifted uncomfortably on their mounts refusing to look at her. “Come on guys, what aren’t you telling me?”

Varric started reciting very quietly, “First day, they come and catch everyone. Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat. Third day, the men are all gnawed on again. Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate. Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn. Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams. Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew. Eighth day, we hated as she is violated. Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin. Now she does feast, as she's become the beast. Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams.”

“Broodmothers,” Blackwall said with disgust spitting onto the road. “Darkspawn kill men, but they capture women and change them to birth more darkspawn.”

Gwen felt suddenly nauseous and shuddered, “okay, getting captured by darkspawn not on the list. Got it.”

“We also need to be careful of darkspawn blood. Accidently ingest it with food or water, or contaminate a wound with darkspawn blood, and you’ll get infected by the taint,” Dorian added.

She turned and looked at him, “you mean like Felix?” she asked sympathetically. The mage nodded unhappily. She reached across from Shadowmere’s back and gave his hand a squeeze. “Truly the Deep Roads sounds thoroughly unpleasant.”

“You can say that again. That’s why I’m glad I’m a surface dwarf.” Varric shook his head, “can we talk about something more pleasant?” They rode along in silence for a few minutes; everyone too lost in their own thoughts about the upcoming mission to come up with a different topic for discussion. Varric piped up again, “I recently heard through my sources that the under world in Val Royeaux is in an uproar over a new player in town.”

“A new player? What do they suspect – could it be an ally of Corypheus?” Blackwall asked.

“No, nothing as nefarious as that. It appears that both guilds, thieves and assassins, were infiltrated by the same person on back to back nights.”

Bull narrowed his eye and stared at Max, “that would require an immense amount of skill. Hey boss, does Red know anything about this?”

“No. Not that she’s told me,” he said, his ears were taking on a slight tinge of pink. Gwen spotted the tell; that’ll be useful for their next game of Wicked Grace.

“When did this occur?” Bull asked still watching Max.

“Well come to think of it, it happened when Rosy was in Val Royeaux. Did you see or hear anything when you were there?” Varric replied before Max could answer.

 _Damn rogue, he knows and is fishing for a confession,_ Gwen thought to herself with a smirk. “Didn’t hear anything about it, Varric. But then, Liesel and I were too busy gorging ourselves on those frilly cakes. The ones with the dark chocolate mousse were amazing.”

“Oh, did you try the little ones with the orange blossoms?” Solas asked suddenly lowering the book he was reading as he rode his hart. Everyone turned their heads and looked incredulously at the serious elf as if he had just grown another head.

“Really, Chuckles?”

He shrugged. “I happen to like those ones.”

* * *

When they passed the north end of Lake Calenhad, Max headed south to Crestwood taking Varric, Bull, and Dorian with him to go address some odd reports originating there from Leliana’s scouts. Blackwall, Solas, and Cole continued east to the Storm Coast with Gwen. As per usual, it was raining on the Storm Coast, but at least, for the moment, it was coming down as a light mist instead of the regular sideways driving rain that worked its way right down to a person’s smalls within minutes.

“My lady, have you ever fought a formal duel?” Blackwall asked as their mounts carefully picked their way across the stony path.

“Blackwall – call me by my name. Josie is a lady, I am not.” A faint blush creeped up on Blackwall. It was only visible between the top edge of his gambeson and bottom edge of his beard, but Gwen saw it. _So it’s true, there is something going on there,_ she thought. “To answer your question; no, I haven’t fought a formal duel. I’ve certainly been challenged to fight because someone felt slighted, although those were often fist fights rather than with weapons.”

“You’ve brawled?” he asked incredulously.

Solas chuckled, “oh yes, she’s quite accomplished with hand-to-hand combat. You should have seen her take down a templar back in the tavern at Haven. He easily out-weighed her by at least half again.”

Gwen made a face as she remembered that confrontation with Mathias. “I do know how to fight with different types of weapons. When I first started on my path, I didn’t have much for gold to equip myself, so I ended up scavenging much of my armour and weapons from ruins and barrows. I have experience fighting with most one-handed weapons and a shield.”

Blackwall nodded with approval, “that’s good. Given that the group has fallen to banditry, they are not likely to adhere to the code of honor; however, it’s good to be prepared as the challenged party can determine the weapons to be used for the duel. Of course, given your gender and size, you’ll likely to be under-estimated in any case.”

She gave him a lop-sided smile, “wouldn’t be the first time.”

“The leader could be a woman,” Solas commented smoothly.

“True, but unlikely. We’ll find out soon enough,” Blackwall concluded as they arrived at the Inquisition camp.

The scouts gave them an update on the group’s activities citing that no more Inquisition forces had been attacked or captured, but they had been staying away from the group’s known area and camp. Gwen pulled the amulet Max had given to her for the challenge and secured it around her neck. She also pulled on a tabard – Josephine’s idea – in deep red that was embroidered with the Inquisition symbol to further identify that she was representing the Inquisition over her armour wrapping her belt over it to keep it secured and snug against the armour. The others made quick adjustments to their armour and weapons then they headed off down the path through the hills to the Blades of Hessarian encampment.

Following the scout’s map, they quickly found the valley path off the beach to the encampment. Gwen spotted some Hessarian scouts along the path but gave no indication that she saw them. Before the wooden palisades of the camp stood a man and a woman on guard duty. She looked them over; they wore beige armour over faded blue cloth that had seen better days much like the tattered banner that flew over their heads. Gwen noticed that they looked tired and a bit malnourished; they weren’t fairing all that well under their current leadership. The woman nocked an arrow into her bow but kept it lowered as the man stepped forward, his sword in hand but lowered as well. “Someone’s come with a challenge?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes, we have,” Gwen said stepping up to them.

“The others have failed,” the woman replied morosely.

“Our leader, Petrus, is inside,” the man said tilting his head to indicate the way. Gwen thanked them and stepped passed to enter the camp. “Maker keep you,” the man whispered quietly as she passed by him.

The camp was in shambles; smashed crates, boxes, and broken carts lay in jumbled piles around the gate, evidence of their banditry, making Gwen and others thread their way through to the center of the camp. Broken bits of glass and pottery crunched under foot. Small shacks stood against the far side of the camp leaning against each other and the palisade. A small bedraggled garden tended by a filthy woman dressed in rags contained some pitiful vegetables. A stable stood close by the gate which was occupied with a couple of scruffy, thin horses. There were few signs of feed for the animals.

The members of the group didn’t look any better than the two guarding the gate. Most of the Blades sat and talked quietly among themselves stopping suddenly to watch closely as Gwen and the others approached. She flicked her eyes around assessing danger, but mostly she saw desperation, misery, and hopelessness rather than aggression.

“Pain, betrayal, humiliation. This isn’t what we’re supposed to be. Maker, let this be the one,” Cole whispered leaning into Gwen. She gave a short, sharp nod to the spirit boy. _No pressure._

At the end of the encampment between the rickety living quarters and the animal pens, a man stood with his arms crossed as he watched them approach through hooded eyes. An axe was hooked into his belt. Gwen studied him, he was broad as Blackwall but a bit taller. His dark hair was raked back into a half pony tail that lay damp, or perhaps just greasy owing to the rest of his appearance, against his head. He didn’t look like he had a good relationship with a razor either based on the general blotchiness of his thick stubble that graced his jaw. Behind him, more ratty banners snapped wetly with a gust of wind. Gwen resisted the urge to gag as she spotted the hanged corpse that ravens were plucking rotted chunks of flesh off, the breeze having carried the scent of rot to them. Beside her, Solas grimaced in disgust.

“So you would challenge the Blades of Hessarian, little girl?” Petrus, the leader, asked sneering at the petite red-head before him as she stepped ahead of Solas, Cole, and Blackwall; the Mercy’s Crest clearly visible around her neck.

“Watch out for the mabari,” Solas hissed quietly in her ear stepping aside as she approached Petrus.

 _Right, under-estimate it is._ “You killed soldiers of the Inquisition. We cannot let this stand,” Gwen replied calmly. She flicked her eyes, noting the huge armoured dogs that rested on either side of him.

 “You want justice?” Petrus snarled. “Claim it!” He pulled his axe and charged at Gwen with a roar. Gwen spun out of the way of the axe’s arc as Petrus passed her. She smoothly pulled her swords turning to face the man. He snapped out some words she didn’t recognize and the three mabari leapt into the fight as Solas had warned. She swatted one of the huge dogs across the nose, another she kicked hard against it’s armoured side sending it tumbling away. The third dog jumped up grabbing her arm.

“ _Kaan Drem Ov!_ ” Gwen shouted. The dog attached to her arm suddenly released her and trotted off with the other two to the stables.

“You bitch! What did you do?” Petrus raged at her, taking a wild swing at her.

“Just levelled the playing field again,” she replied, calmly blocking his axe with one sword and scoring his ribs with the other blade.

He backed away from her holding his axe out in defense. He reached under his arm and brought his hand away bloody. “You _fucking_ bitch! I will kill you for this, but you won’t die until every man here has had you and then I’ll feed you alive to the dogs.”

Gwen stopped still, lowering her swords with a shocked look on her face as she stared at the man.

Petrus grinned and charged at her swinging his axe at her neck. She dropped at the last moment to duck under the axe. His momentum didn’t give him the opportunity to change his attack. Gwen spun behind him and slashed one of the swords across the backs of his thighs hamstringing him. Petrus screamed as he stumbled to his knees; grabbing at the back of his legs, and dropping his axe. Gwen sheathed one of the swords and marched up behind the screaming man. She grabbed him by the hair and jerked his head up, “you are finished,” she hissed in his ear. Without letting go of his hair, she swung the sword quickly separating his head from the rest of his body silencing him. With a quick kick of her foot, his body tumbled forwards and she turned to face the other Blades. The encampment was silent as she dropped Petrus’ head on his body. “It’s done.”

“Provided no one stabs you in the back on the way out,” Blackwall helpfully added as he, Solas, and Cole joined her once more.

“Lady Dragonborn. The Blades of Hessarian are at your service,” a blond man approached him and bowed to her.

“Thank you, I’ll be sure to inform the Inquisitor that you are available.”

“You misunderstand, my lady. We’re loyal to _you._ ”

Gwen looked to her companions helplessly. Blackwall chuckled, while Solas just stood there with a pleased look on his face. “But, I challenged your leader on behalf of the Inquisitor…”

“It doesn’t matter, my lady. You wore the crest; you won the challenge. Our loyalty is to you.”

“I see. So there’s no ill will over what happened to your former boss?”

“The man was a bastard, begging your pardon my lady; you heard him yourself. You’re not the first to stand up to him. You’re just the first to win, and we’re happy with that. Besides, I would rather swear my life to the Dragonborn, than that…” he grimaced in the direction of Petrus’ body.

Gwen held a hand up, “okay, I get it. What is your name?”

“Ivor, my lady,” the Blade bowed to her again.

“Is there we can sit down out of this rain, Ivor, to discuss matters?”

Ivor led them to a small building that looked _marginally_ better than the others and showed her in. It had apparently been Petrus’ quarters and reflected the character of the man as much as his words had. Gwen looked around in disgust and finally pulled a reasonably clean set of chairs over by the fireplace and sat down, indicating the other chair to Ivor. Blackwall and Solas leaned against the wall on either side of the doorway. “Tell me how Petrus came to be leading the Blades?”

“Many months ago, he showed up and challenged our leader. Petrus and some of his friends ambushed a couple of our number and tortured them into telling him about the Mercy’s Crest. He challenged our leader, a kind older warrior, and killed him. He _inducted_ his friends into the order and had us involved with banditry. Several of the true Blades protested that the actions were against our purpose; his men slaughtered anyone that spoke out. A few others challenged him to take over the leadership. Well, you saw the remains of the last one that tried.” Gwen spotted a look of distaste cross Solas’ face.

“Where are his friends now?”

“Petrus killed two himself when they demanded a greater share of the loot. There are another three currently out on a job with a few Blades. They are due to return within a day or so.”

“Tell me, Ivor, what do the Blades do if one of their own goes against the purpose of the order?”

“If they are found guilty, they are executed by the blade.” Both Solas and Blackwall were paying close attention to Gwen now.

“Are there any other individuals presently in the camp now that I should be aware of that would cause a problem with the change of leadership?”

“No, my lady. The rest of the group will obey your orders without question.”

“Fine. Here are my first orders. Have someone removed Petrus’ body and tidy up the area to remove evidence of the battle. Cut down the corpse of the last challenger and have his body prepared for cremation; we’ll take care of that once the others have returned to the camp. Also kennel the mabari for now. I want everyone to continue as if I have not been here; I don’t want Petrus’ cronies knowing that anything has changed and have them escape. Once they arrive, they are to be detained and brought before me. That will be all for now.”

“My lady, it will be done.” Ivor stood and saluted her before spinning on his heel and exiting the building.

Gwen leaned forward resting her elbows on her knees and gave her face a scrub with her hands. “What in Oblivion have you got me into Max,” she muttered under her breath. She looked up and both Blackwall and Solas had moved away from their posts by the door.

“What are you intending to do?” Solas asked.

“Well I’m pretty sure I’m going to smack the shit out of Max when I see him next.” Blackwall chuckled. Gwen leaned back in her chair and looked at the men, “I need to clean house. As you said, I must make sure no one is going to stab me in the back on the way out. If there are still murderers and thieves…” she barked out a laugh and shook her head as she got up to pace the room. “How much of a hypocrite does that make me?” Solas didn’t say anything but stood there watching her with his impassive mask in place.

“You’re hardly a murderer,” Blackwall argued. “You’ve been in war and have had to defend yourself from those that would kill you. You aren’t guilty of murder for taking those lives.”

“No? What about those I was _paid_ to extinguish?” Blackwall jerked like someone hit him with a lightening bolt. “Oh yes, I was an accomplished thief _and_ assassin prior to coming to Thedas.” Blackwall stared at her but didn’t say anything.

“And since coming to Thedas?” Solas asked softly.

Gwen glanced at him, “thief, yes. Assassin, no. I’m trying to discourage Leliana from using my skills in that way. I didn’t want to do it before, and given a choice, I won’t now.” She sighed as she leaned against the wall. “I’ll give them a choice, they can either commit to the Blades and atone for their crimes, or…” she trailed off.

“You would spare them?” Blackwall asked as he watched her closely.

“If they truly regret their actions, then yes, they should have a chance to redeem themselves,” she replied. “Cole will be able to tell me if they’re lying if they should choose to remain, and hopefully, some of the true Blades can speak for them.” She pushed herself away from the wall, “Solas, can you please see if there are any here that need healing and then we can provide that to them. Blackwall, can you please look over the living quarters; you have an eye for carpentry so would be better equipped than myself to determine what is needed for repairs. I will go talk with Ivor to see what resources they have that we can use here or send to the Inquisition. If they are going to be of any use to Max, they need to not be so destitute.”

No outward changes were made to the camp, but several Blades and servants eagerly volunteered to get Petrus’ former quarters cleaned for Gwen’s use. The floors and walls were scrubbed down, and the straw mattress on the bed was replaced with a new one filled with fresh straw and covered with clean sheets and blanket from the stores that Ivor and Gwen broke into. Ivor was rather shocked by contents that Petrus had kept secreted under lock and key. After they tallied the cache, Gwen instructed Ivor to send one of the Blades as a courier to the Inquisition camp with a message for Leliana, and to wait for Max’s arrival to escort him and the other companions to the Blades camp. She also had Ivor send out those Blades that were excellent scouts to watch for the return of Petrus’ cohorts so they would know that they were on their way back.

Gwen circulated through the camp, meeting all the men and women that comprised of the Blades; every single one saluted and pledged their service to her. While she was faintly discomforted by their fervor, in truth, it wasn’t really that different than her position as head of the Thieves Guild or that of the Dark Brotherhood. She and Solas provided healing; mostly it was required by the servants as they were unable to effectively avoid Petrus and his crew and were the most vulnerable as a result.

In the morning, the missing Blades with Petrus’ bandits were brought to Gwen who stood waiting for them where she had defeated Petrus’ the day before. Two men with their hands bound at their backs were forced to kneel before her. “I was told that there were three of you. Where is your third?”

The older of the two men, another scruffy, disreputable looking man of Petrus’ ilk, “stupid shite got too close to the cliff edge. He’s dead. Who the fuck are you?”

“Petrus is dead,” she informed him. “I am now lead the Blades of Hessarian.”

He spat on the ground at her feet, “I’m not following you, you stupid whore.”

“I see. I have spoken with the other Blades and the servants here. You have been accused of rape and torture. What say you in your defense?”

He glared at her, “I’ll do worse than that when I get my hands on you.” Gwen looked at him with thinly veiled disgust before moving onto the next man.

“And what of you? What do you have to say for yourself?” she asked him. He was a younger man, probably not yet out of his teens.

He trembled as he knelt before her, “please my lady, please. I joined Petrus’ gang in desperation but I haven’ hurt anyone. Please spare me!” He bowed so low before her his head rested in the mud. Gwen caught a glimpse of Cole who nodded his head slightly.

“Shut up you snivelling boot-licker,” the other prisoner snarled at him.

Gwen stepped in front of the older of the two again, “for committing to the Blades under false pretenses and committing crimes of banditry, rape, and torture in their name, I hereby sentence you to death. Any last words?”

“To the Void with you, bitch!”

Gwen stepped to his side pulling out her sword. The prisoner knelt before her defiantly as she took her swing cleaving his head from his shoulders much as she had done to Petrus. She stepped over his corpse and stood next to the younger man. He stared in shock as the body tumbled forwards into the mud with a wet splat; he turned his head and looked at the sword dripping blood into the mud turning it red. He looked up at Gwen with tears streaming down his face, “ _please_ my lady, I beg you.”

“For committing to the Blades under false pretenses and committing crimes of banditry, I hereby sentence you…” He closed his eyes and bowed his head awaiting the sword. Gwen stepped in front of him and grasped him gently by the chin lifting his head, his eyes popped open in surprise. “To commit yourself, in truth, to the ideals and code of the Blades for the rest of your live. Should you fail to uphold your commitment to the Blades, your life will be forfeit. You will not get a third chance. What say you?”

A shudder went through the young man as he grasped at the opportunity to live, “I pledge my life to the service of the Blades, and to you, my lady. In Holy Andraste’s name, I do swear it.” Gwen scrutinized him closely looking for signs of dishonesty, not that she expected it. He held her gaze with the first signs of hope and relief that he might live a better life.

She nodded after a moment and released him, “what is your name?”

“Thierry, my lady.”

“I accept your pledge, Thierry.” Ivor came up and cut the man’s bonds helping him to his feet. She wiped off her sword and returned it to the scabbard. Stepping off the dais, she looked up to see Max approaching with a grin on his face. She pointed a finger at him, “you and I have some things to discuss. Follow me.” She led him to her newly cleaned quarters and closed the door behind him, leaving the other companions to find out what happened from Solas, Cole, and Blackwall. She whirled on Max giving him a hard shove in the breastplate with her hand, “what in Oblivion have you gotten me into? Did you know that they’d pledge themselves to me and not the Inquisition?”

Max rubbed the back of his neck and looked a bit sheepish, “we, uh, suspected that they would.”

“You knew!” she shouted at him. The wood boards of the building rattled as some of the power of the Thu’um crept into her voice. “I don’t need my own militia!”

Max held his hands up in front of him, “Gwen, hear me out.” He walked towards her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Yes, they’ve pledged to you, but you’re with the Inquisition so we will take care of their supplies and requisitions. They can stay here and patrol the Storm Coast and report to Leliana. You don’t have to stay here with them.” She huffed, slightly mollified for which he was glad of because he knew she wasn’t going to like the next bit. “We do; however, want you to take a least a half dozen with you as a personal guard.”

“What!” she yelled at him then started pacing the room. He winced. “No, I’m not doing that. I can’t do what I do with bunch of soldiers rattling and crashing in my wake. I have Liesel, that’s enough.”

“Gwen, Liesel didn’t protect you from the Qunari…”

“That’s not fair, and you know it.”

“Just – hear me out. We’ve received intelligence that it’s not just the Qunari that are interested in you. Corypheus’ forces are looking for you, as are the regular ‘Vints, and others. After what happened with the Qunari, you need to be protected.”

Gwen growled in frustration.

“Rylen would agree with the plan.”

Gwen gave him a baleful look, “low blow.”

“Perhaps. But it is true.” He grabbed her hand to stop her pacing, “Look Gwennie, I don’t know if I can defeat Corypheus, not with that dragon of his. I _need_ you at my side. Please, take the Blades and be protected.”

Gwen’s anger melted under his kicked puppy-dog expression. “Fine,” she groused. “But from now on, you include me in these decisions instead of forcing my hand. I have my own militia now, you know, so I can kick your ass.”

Max laughed as he threw his arm over her shoulders and pulled her with him out the door. “You could always kick my ass; with or without a militia. Why do you think I’ve never sparred with you? You scare the shit out of me!” he joked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, this chapter kind of got away from me! I guess more needed to be said than I expected.  
> I'm on [Tumblr](https://delightfullyunabashedanchor.tumblr.com/) if anyone wants to reach out and chat or ask questions :) Thank you as always for kudo, comments, and subscriptions.


	31. The Deep Roads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To answer your question, Clíodhna, THIS is what I think is scarier... Thanks for the question in your comments - it totally changed where this chapter went!

After Gwen and Max provided instruction to Ivor to get the Blades organized while they were in the Deep Roads, and made the necessary arrangements by raven to Skyhold, they headed to the rendez-vous point to enter the lyrium mine. As always, the cheerful Scout Harding was present to greet them. “Inquisitor. The workers are almost done building a lift to the Deep Roads. No darkspawn trouble yet, but the earthquakes have been brutal.”

“So you haven’t seen any darkspawn up here?” Max asked.

“I sharpened my arrows just in case, but they never showed. I’m okay with that,” she said fussing with her gloves. “There have been at least three big rumblers, and the aftershocks are nothing to sneeze at. My feet miss solid ground.”

“I was told to meet a Shaper Valta,” Max replied.

“She’s waiting below. You won’t see an Orzammar dwarf on the surface. They have rules about that.” Harding looked over her shoulder as one of the workers whistled to get her attention and then waved at her. “The lift’s ready for you.” Everyone walked out onto the swinging elevator, eyeing it uneasily. “Try not to shift around – and keep back from the edge. It’s a long way down.”

The lift suddenly gave a lurch as it started to lower, and Gwen squeaked in surprise grabbing Dorian’s arm much to the amusement of the others. “What? The dwemer lifts I’m used to are much more… sturdy, and steam powered.”

“Lowered into a hole. What an auspicious start,” Varric grumbled stroking Bianca’s grip.

“We’ve been in worse places,” Max replied. They stared at the cracks in the stone as they descended and tried not to imagine what would be worse than being stuck underground for the rest of their lives.

“Is it me or is this the slowest lift ever constructed?” Dorian griped. “I could do with some music. Perhaps something with a flute?”

Max rolled his eyes, “it’s better than climbing down.” As they arrived at the bottom, they saw a dwarven woman making notes on a tablet as she stood over several shrouded bodies. “You must be Shaper Valta.”

“Atrast vala, Inquisitor. The Shaperate welcomes you to the Deep Roads,” she said with a bow.

Max looked around, “are you alone here?”

“There’s nothing to be done here but account for the dead. The rest are deeper into the roads. Our situation has worsened since we contacted Skyhold.” She was interrupted by a tremor that quickly subsided after a few seconds. “The quakes collapsed this mine and shattered a seal keeping the darkspawn at bay. The Legion of the Dead hasn’t been able to mend the broken seal – and we can’t afford to lose any more lyrium.

“Orzammar deals with darkspawn all the time. Why request the Inquisition’s help?”

“The Legion isn’t prepared for this level of disaster, and the Grey Wardens haven’t answered our calls for aid. Any threat to the flow of lyrium requires an immediate response. The Inquisition is the only force we can rely upon.”

“Hmm, yes, we’re investigating the disappearance of the Grey Wardens, ourselves. The Inquisition stands ready to aid Orzammar. Without a steady lyrium supply, things on the surface will get even worse if we do not have the equipment we need to defeat Corypheus.”

Another tremor, much stronger, rocked the ground making everyone stagger. Suddenly Valta leapt forwards shoving Max off his feet as a huge boulder fell from the surface and slamming to the ground where they had just been standing. “Apologies for pushing you,” she said as they regained their feet, knocking off the dust and debris from the collapse.

“Think nothing of it. Better a push than becoming Inquisitor jam on the underside of a rock,” Max quipped, earning him a chuckle from the dwarf.

“I fear the damage that tremor caused. Follow me to the Legion camp. And keep your eyes open; these roads are dangerous.”

“I always wondered if I would die down here,” Blackwall commented grimly.

“Look on the bright side, you’re not dead yet,” Gwen replied cheerfully.

He snorted, “the day’s just starting.”

No sooner had Blackwall finished making the comment, there was a tremendous rumble within the stone followed by an animalistic roar. “That was not part of the quake…” Max said pulling out his sword and securing his shield in his hand. “Gwen provide backup with Varric, Solas, and Dorian. The rest with me.” They rounded the corner and were faced with the biggest monster Gwen had ever seen on two legs. An ogre stood before them. While the warriors charged at the giant darkspawn, Gwen and Varric peppered the beast with arrows and bolts, and the mages cast barriers over everyone. The ogre was incredibly tough, and Gwen had seen dragons go down easier than this monster they currently faced.

For one awful moment, they feared Max was going to be killed when the ogre grabbed at him and slammed him to the ground. Before it could pick Max up again to rend with its hands, Gwen and Varric shot the ogre in the face managing to blind it in one eye. As it staggered towards the edge of the path, Gwen dashed towards it and shouted, “ _Fus Ro Dah!”_ giving the ogre an added shove backwards sending it tumbling to its death in the depths of the Deep Roads below them. Solas quickly attended Max for injuries. “ _What_ in Oblivion was that?” she asked.

Varric walked up to the edge of the path and looked over to where the ogre had fallen. “ _That_ is what you get when you mix darkspawn with Qunari.”

Gwen’s brows rose and she looked at Bull. “Keep your bits to yourself while we’re down here. We don’t need any more of those.”

“It doesn’t work that…” Bull started to say.

“Keep your bits, or I’ll keep them for you,” she said pulling out a dagger and flipping it in her hand. Bull chuckled even as he tried not to cringe, unsure if he was cringing more about having _his bits_ cut off or the thought of having relations with a darkspawn.

“Come on, we need to hurry. If an ogre made it this far up, the Legion must be overwhelmed,” Valta said with a worried glance down the path before them.

They hurried after the dwarf towards the sound of clashing metal. Gwen pressed the back of her fingers against her nose to try to block out the sickly odour that threatened to coat the back of her throat and made her swallow repeatedly so not to gag or vomit. Valta noticed Gwen’s discomfort, “I will never get used to the stench of darkspawn. They corrupt everything, even the air.”

The tunnel opened into a huge room that was currently occupied by dozens of darkspawn, and dwarves in heavy armour desperately trying to not be over-run. “Quickly, we must help them!” the dwarf cried. They charged in to help battle the horde of darkspawn; Gwen had never seen so many creatures even when in some of the most populous tombs of draugr. After what seemed like hours, the last of the creatures lay dead; a couple of Legion dwarves detonated a type of lyrium explosive to bring down a tunnel to prevent its use by the horde.

As Max discussed the situation with Valta and Renn, the Legion of the Dead lieutenant, Gwen looked around at the vaulted room they were in. “Something else, isn’t it?” Varric asked, standing beside her. “Seen anything like it at home?”

“I’ve been through a lot of dwemer ruins. They were impressive, like this,” she waved her hand up at the statues and soaring ceiling, “but different. A lot more steam pipes, bellows, and a wide variety of nasty traps. Oh, and you can’t forget the Animunculi.”

“Animunculi?”

“Yes, mechanical jumping spiders that bite and shoot lightning at you, spheres that turn into man-like machines armed with swords and crossbows, and huge centurions with massive war hammers and battle axes permanently affixed to their arms. The centurions you can see ahead of time to try to avoid them, but the spiders and spheres pop out of the pipes and scare the shit out of you.”

He chuckled at the last comment, then asked, “but no dwarves?”

“Nope. Never saw one until I met you, my friend,” she smiled putting her hand on his shoulder.

Max waved everyone together. “Restock your supplies and gather enough rations for several days. We’re probably going to run into some issues that we’ll need to send in builders, or what have you, but the Legion will set up camps behind us as we clear the way to resupply us. The lift is just this way so stock up and let’s get a move on.”

The lift was stone and heavy metal chains, while still primitive to what Gwen was used to seeing in dwemer ruins, it was a sight better than the wooden lift they used to get down from the surface. She didn’t feel so unsteady as it started to lower them down to the lower levels of the Deep Roads. “I hope we don’t run into an emissary,” Valta cheerfully commented.

Renn sighed, “now we’ll definitely run into one.”

“I take it emissaries are bad?” Max asked.

“Most darkspawn are mindless killing machines, connected by the Blight. But emissaries are – intelligent – and use magic.”

The lift finally stopped at the bottom, and the foul stench of darkspawn was overpowering. No sooner did they exit the lift and go through the first door darkspawn shrieks attacked them. The shrieks were nimble, appearing and vanishing, only to appear on the other side of the room, like rogues. They pressed on fighting their way through the darkspawn that came in wave after wave. Upon entering one room after unlocking some convoluted set of gears, they ran into an emissary. “I told you this would happen because you mentioned it!” Renn complained to Valta after they brought it down. Gwen stood by the door watching for any darkspawn that might fall on them from behind while they were in the room. Absently, she rubbed her knuckles across her sternum.

“You all right there Rosy? You’re looking a little pale,” Varric asked watching her and noting her faint frown.

“Yeah, I’m… The dragon souls are – seem agitated. I’ve never felt anything like this.”

“You gonna be able to carry on?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. Never been around darkspawn before so maybe that’s the reason.” Varric nodded and gave her a pat on the back as he ducked out of the door to check out the hall in front of the rest of the group. She turned and followed him, taking up a spot on the other side of the hall to provide cover as the others exited the room and headed down the hall. The tunnels meandered from room to room, seldom in straight lines which both helped and hindered them as they proceeded through; it helped them in that they could control the number of darkspawn they faced and rotate out the front-line fighters to allow everyone a chance to rest, but it hindered them in that they couldn’t see what they were going to face until they entered a room and then had to retreat again.

Gwen wasn’t sure how long they were fighting for. With no natural daylight, it was impossible to tell if they had only been fighting for a few hours or for days; either way, she, and everyone else in the group, were more than happy to stop for a rest when they got to the end of the warrens and descended in the lift to find an area suitable to camp. Renn advised that everyone stay in their armour and keep their weapons nearby just in case; everyone tried to get as comfortable as they could and rest between the watch rotations. Solas and Dorian set wards to protect and alert them should any darkspawn appear in the area allowing everyone to relax a little bit while they ate some supper.

“You said earlier that the dragon souls were agitated. How do you know this?” Solas asked curiously.

“I don’t – at least, not for sure. But where I feel them most after absorbing a soul,” she rubbed at her sternum again, “there was a strange sensation. It’s kind of hard to explain… Like when you are very nervous or exciting you get that butterflies in the stomach feeling – it’s kind of like that but centered in my chest and there is heat too.”

Solas looked thoughtfully mulling over her explanation. “Have you ever experienced it before?”

“Only once before; when I showed you the dragon wall in my dreams. It never happened in Skyrim. I wasn’t aware of the souls’ presence beyond once I had absorbed it. I don’t know whether being in Thedas woke them up or if the meditation I did with the Avvar shaman to reach Mulmirnir did it. But in any case, the dragons seemed to become agitated when the darkspawn are close – not so much the regular ones but the emissaries definitely got them upset.”

“Wardens can sense darkspawn because they themselves are tainted,” Solas said. Gwen looked at Blackwall, horrified. “It permits them to sense the darkspawn, but the darkspawn can also sense the Wardens – which is why we placed wards around the camp – but I’m curious as to why the dragon souls sense the higher darkspawn and if they, or you, are sensed in return.” Gwen shrugged helplessly.

“Ugh, this gives me the creeps. Bad enough being down here – can we discuss something else?” Varric grumbled. They were all too ready to agree and settled in for the evening to rest for the next day.

* * *

Gwen awoke and found herself in the dark, alone. The fire and torches had gone out; she tamped down on her fear, her friends wouldn’t be far away. They wouldn’t leave her here in the dark, they wouldn’t betray her and leave her to die alone like Mercer Frey did. She shook off the reflexive fear and calmed herself. She stood up and peered into the gloom around her searching for any indications of where they could have gone. Ahead of her was a faint light, she walked cautiously towards it and found herself in a tunnel. Creeping forwards carefully, she couldn’t help the occasional crunch under her foot as she stepped towards the light; truly, the floor was littered with debris and she had the uneasy feeling that some of it, nay much of it, consisted of bones based on the way they felt and sounded when they snapped. She reached out to her sides to touch the walls. She jumped in surprise as sparks shot out in the dark as her fingertips dragged against the stone wall beside her. She couldn’t feel the wall except for the sensation of resistance but the sparks flared from where her fingers _should_ be. It was almost the sensation of having one’s arm be asleep, well, except for the sparks.

As she crept along the tunnel towards the growing light, she felt the overwhelming urge to get to the surface. There was something travelling up from behind her. She needed to hurry but the tunnel was becoming more difficult to traverse. The closer to the light she got, the tighter the tunnel became. Abruptly she was brought to her knees with a gasp as a sharp pain tore through her. She gritted her teeth to stop the scream that rose as she felt a bone snap in her back; it felt like the first time she changed into a werewolf. She was changing, but into what, she didn’t know. She hurried, stumbling occasionally to her knees, toward the light and out of the tunnel onto the surface. The tunnel emerged onto a warm sandy beach, water lapped against the shore as she tripped on a rock and fell. This wasn’t the Storm Coast, it was somewhere else warmer, and and if she had to hazard a guess, further to the north. Behind her a horde of darkspawn; genlocks, hurlocks, shrieks, and others, poured out of the tunnel she just exited. She braced herself for the inevitable attack, instead the horde broke and flowed around her like a river around a stone. Another wet, snapping shift within her body caught her by surprise and she shrieked aloud, but the horde continued around her without regard. She looked down at her hands and arms, and realised in horror that she could see the twisting black that coursed through her veins under her skin. It looked much as it did on Dorian’s friend, Felix. All thoughts and questions as to how this had happened fled her mind as she felt the nails tear and her knuckles break as they elongated and shifted becoming talons. She could feel the energy, or magic, from the world that was being sucked into her facilitating her transformation as her body grew until she assumed her true form, that of a massive dragon. She gave herself a shake relishing the feel of power in her body. Her wings stretched out like huge sails in patterns of reds and black, and she flapped them buffeting the darkspawn as they passed her.

She took to the air driving the horde before her destroying and burning city after city. Armies of men rose and fell before her. In a forest among great stands of trees now twisted and blackening, a lone elf stood before her. She landed and shifting form to human again as she strode towards him. His magic washed over her which she shrugged off with no more effort than a horse twitches its skin to rid itself of a fly. “Your magic has no effect on me,” she growled at him.

His eyes flashed with silvery blue light as he launched another powerful, but ineffective attack at her. “You will not destroy this world!”

She sank her claws through his armor and hooked them between his ribs. “Why not? You had your chance to destroy this world and remake it in your image, but you failed, Grohiik. Now it’s my turn.” She grinned and pulled apart her hands yanking ribs, muscle, and viscera from his body; he choked in shock on torrents of blood as his body died before his mind could comprehend his own end. She shifted shape again and took off without a moment’s thought for the destruction she wrought on the one-time friend.

Countries lay in waste, dying in swathes of red and black as the horde raced across them before her. Before snow covered mountains, an army of Grey Wardens awaited her. Even as the Grey Warden struck her down, the soul within her obliterated when it clashed with the Warden’s, another rose in its place. The Wardens threw themselves against her, helpless, like waves upon the shore; they cut her down only for her to rise again over and over until the Wardens were no more and the Blight marched on to cover the entire world. With the Wardens dead around her, she took to the air to one last bastion of resistance.

She flew over Skyhold blasting its ramparts and towers with fire, electricity, turning everyone and everything to smoldering rubble and ash. She spotted several people she recognized, ones she sought, in the bailey below. Landing on the cobblestones she shifted her form back into that of a woman. Max didn’t hesitate and ran at her with shield and sword at the ready. She took one swipe at him with her claws sundering his armour and opening him from throat to groin as he fell to the stones dead. The Iron Bull charged at her, but he faired no better; she twisted around his attack and grabbed his horns yanking him off balance making him fall to his knees. With a harsh jerk she yanked his head around snapping his neck and letting his body tumble to the ground like a rag doll. One by one, she cut through her friends and companions until she reached Rylen. She paused as he pleaded with her to hold her attack. She cocked her head to the side listening to him but heard nothing of what he said. Slowly she walked towards him; she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck pulling him into her embrace and ravaged his mouth in a kiss, relishing the taste of his blood as she felt the bones of his skull collapse under her grip.

Gwen woke up screaming. She screamed and looked at her hands; they were clean, but she could still see and feel the blood on them, taste the blood on her tongue. She scrambled to her feet desperately wiping her hands on her legs and stumbled away to vomit behind some rocks. She screamed again when a hand was placed on her shoulder turning her towards the fire. Her eyes darted around to find her friends gathered around her with very worried eyes and expressions. “You are all right now, da'isenatha. It was a dream,” Solas reassured her resting his hand on her shoulder. “You were screaming in your sleep.”

“Noooo. No, no, no,” she moaned. “No, it’s not all right. I’ll destroy you all.”

“Shhhhh. The dream has just upset you,” the elf soothed drawing her back to the fire.

“No, it wasn’t just a dream. It was… memories? A warning from the souls I carry,” she said trying to puzzle out the images that lingered in her head absently rubbing her knuckles against the center of her chest as she sat down. She took an offered cup of a hot beverage with a shaking hand, wrinkling her nose at the scent as she brought it near her mouth, and put the cup down on the floor without taking a sip. Almost immediately, she changed her mind and picked up the cup drinking some of the hot tea with a grimace. Across from her, Varric chuckled at her expression having seen Solas make the same expression.

“Maybe it would help if you told us about it,” Bull offered.

She nodded her head slowly as she gathered her thoughts. “An Archdemon leads the Blight, and might be what Corypheus’ dragon is. What makes an Archdemon?” Several of the group shifted uncomfortably at the question.

Blackwall answered, “the darkspawn find and taint one of the Old Gods. When it awakes, it’s twisted with the taint and leads the darkspawn horde. It starts a Blight.”

Gwen looked at him, “what is an Old God?”

Blackwall hesitated; Solas interjected, “the Old Gods are thought to be spirits that took the form of dragons, not unlike what our friend Cole has done. The taint twists them into incredibly evil, malignant beings.”

“What am I?” she asked quietly.

They looked puzzled, not seeing the connection she was leading them to. “You’re a woman,” Max answered firmly. “A little, albeit, incredibly scary, _woman_.”

Gwen looked at Bull who was frowning, deep in thought. “Bull? You’ve tasted my blood. What am I?”

“A dragon. In human form,” he all but growled.

“A dragon – in human form – possessing the souls, or spirits if you will, of dragons; including several ancient ones, thousands of years old. How am I different than an Old God dragon other than my physical form?”

“How many dragon souls do you carry?” Max asked, not really wanting the answer.

“Well over a hundred.”

“Fasta vass,” Dorian swore as he started to connect the dots.

“Indeed. The dragon souls within me,” she said rubbing her knuckles against her sternum again as if to soothe the tumultuous feelings writhing within, “are very agitated. They warn that I can become an Archdemon. They _showed_ me what I’d become; what I would do. I would make Corypheus look like a petulant child having a temper tantrum over a broken toy. No Blight ever afflicted this world would compare to what I could do as an Archdemon.” She looked at each of them in turn, “if I get infected with the taint, you must strike immediately before it has a chance to twist me, twists the souls within me. If it does,” she glanced at Blackwall last, “there aren’t enough Wardens in this world to stop me.” She wrapped her arms around her knees pulling them up to her chest as she buried her face against her thighs with a hiccupping sob.

“And Thedas breaks the Dragonborn,” Varric said softly, sadly, getting up to watch the entranceway to the room with Renn and Valta.

The men shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do for the woman that they knew was fierce and brave, and was ready to go down fighting taking as many Qunari with her just weeks ago, and now was falling apart before them. Max moved over to sit beside her and pulled her into a strong hug. He murmured against her temple as he rocked her, like he had done for his younger sister before she had been dragged off to the Circle in Ostwick so many years ago. “You’re okay. We’ll keep you safe. Nothing’s going to happen to you, I promise.” He gently brushed stray bits of hair off her face where they were sticking to the tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, “I just… seeing what I could do… all those deaths… _your_ deaths at my hands…” She rubbed the palms of her hands together as if to wipe away the blood she could still feel there. “I wish I could un-see it.”

“Yeah, I know. I felt the same way after Redcliffe.” He gave his head a little shake as his memories came forward unbidden.

“Hey gang, we’ve got company in-coming,” Varric warned them from his spot by the door raising Bianca to take aim.

“Can you go on or do you need to go back?” Max asked her, helping her to her feet.

“I can go on. I _need_ to go on. We haven’t found the wall yet.” She paused to steady her breath. “I’m sorry…” she said sheepishly.

“You don’t need to apologize, any of us would be completely freaked out if we saw that ourselves. Knowing can only help us prevent it; protect you.” The others nodded in agreement. Max gave her a fierce hug, “I won’t let you fall to that.”

“Not to interrupt, but we have some darkspawn that are doing their best to locate us,” Varric warned again.

Gwen pulled herself together and scrambled to her ready her bow; she would not jeopardize the group with her fear. She positioned herself on the other side of the doorway from Varric and waited for Solas and Dorian to drop the wards before the group moved out. As they moved along the rooms and corridors they realised that they had entered the main body of the thaig, and the darkspawn had made it into a nest. The darkspawn were relentless; they didn’t seem to need to sleep or rest, they just came at them in an unending assault.

They pushed through the thaig until they got to a lift. Just as they were about to enter it, another quake rocked the thaig. A huge dwarven statue tipped over smashing the lift and crashed down into the abyss. They could hear the echo of the stone collapsing into the darkness below them.

“That was a big one. The only way down from here is falling and I’m not to keen on that,” Renn grumbled.

“I'd also like to avoid falling, if we're counting votes,” Varric chipped in his opinion.

Valta looked over the edge, considering their next approach. “We need to go deeper. There has to be another way down. Come, this way,” she said leading them back to another fork in the tunnels which led to another lift. It looked a bit rickety, so they split the group so not to burden it over much.

“I don't mean to alarm anyone,” Dorian quipped as he reached the bottom, “but I believe we've all gone blind.”

“It's wrong here. Too many whispers. The song is wrong. Chords cut to silence.” Gwen put her hand on Cole’s shoulder, as much to comfort him as to comfort herself.

“We've gone past the Deep Roads,” Valta said quietly.

Max snorted, “how can you tell? It's pitch black.”

“I can feel it.”

Gwen could see a little bit as her dragon blood and elven heritage gave her superior night vision; she glanced over where she knew others of the group were situated and was startled to notice that Solas’ eyes reflected what little light there was. His eyes widened when he realized the same of hers. She studied the space ahead of them; something was there, it wasn’t darkspawn, but she didn’t know what it was. She stepped in front of Max and cocked her head trying to figure out what was there. “Gwen!” Max hissed at her.

She whispered, “ _Laas Yah Nir_!” Before them she saw a dozen figures. She gasped, “barriers and shields, now!”

“Show yourselves,” Renn demanded at the same moment.

No sooner than she felt the barrier fall over her, the figures before them appeared to ignite in glowing blue and fired on them. She heard a grunt from behind her from someone and she immediately retaliated with her storm call shout sending lightning crackling through the metal clad warriors before them. The rest of the group charged into the enemy and cut them down.

“Those were Sha-Brytol,” Valta said with awe. “Lost dwarven kin whose purpose is to protect the titan. The earthquakes could be the titan!”

They were no longer in the Deep Roads but in some long-forgotten realm that Valta told them the Shaperate had no record of. They proceeded with caution; it was very dark and the Sha-Brytol appeared out of nowhere when they least expected them. The cavern twisted and turned on itself falling away into the abyss in some areas and blocked by collapses in other areas.

“There's something... strange on the other side,” Valta said haltingly as they approached a stone bridge. “I can feel it...”

“Yes, I can hear it! The word wall is over there,” Gwen replied excitedly. She stepped out onto the bridge.

“Careful Gwen,” Max cautioned.

“Yeah, the Sha-Brytol have made it pretty clear that we aren’t wanted down here,” Varric added. “You never know what they might have planned; my guess is another earthquake – that hits when we're halfway across the bridge. That or more darkspawn.”

“I don’t sense any darkspawn. Do you?” Gwen said and then turned to Blackwall. He shook his head. Gwen stepped further out onto the bridge and then scrambled back, throwing herself back onto the path as roar rumbled through the cavern and the bridge collapsed. She gave Varric a dirty look as she brushed herself off.

“That wasn't a quake. Someone sabotaged the bridge, and we don't have time to fix it,” Valta said.

“There must be another way across,” Solas commented looking over the edge.

“There! That ledge! We can reach it if we're careful.”

Bull growled, not pleased at the prospect of scaling the walls himself. “If we wanted to be careful, we'd be up on the surface,” he grumbled.

Gwen looks at the span between the two ends of the broken bridge. “How far do you think it is?” she asked, speculating the distance herself.

“Hmm, about twenty-five feet,” Valta replied.

“Give or take another five to ten feet,” Bull added, “depending on how much of either side of the bridge remains intact once there is weight applied to it.”

Gwen hummed thoughtfully to herself then cast a couple magelights lobbing them across the chasm to see if there were any enemies or other barriers that they weren’t aware of. The space ended not far from the edge of the bridge and she could see the distinctive appearance of a word wall. The dragon text giving off a faint glow in the shadows.

Valta gasped, “what is that?”

“I’ll explain later,” Gwen replied. She flicked her wrists on either side of her, “can you all clear the path.” She backed up a bit from the edge.

“Gwen… What are you doing?” Max asked suspiciously, stepping aside nonetheless.

“Nothing.” She sprinted forward and just before the edge of the broken bridge, shouted, “ _Wuld Nah Kest!”_ propelling herself across the empty space. She could hear the others shouting to her, but she was entirely focussed on the wall before her. The new word, _Revak_ , seared into her mind. “Okay, I’m coming back. Watch out!” She used the whirlwind sprint shout again and shot across the chasm, crashing into Bull with an “Oof” as he stepped into her path as she made it back to their side.

“Maker’s hairy balls, girl, you are insane,” Blackwall grumbled looking over the edge of the bridge again, shaking his head.

“Don’t do that again,” Max said giving her a quick shake. “Scared the shit out of me! I do not want to go back to Skyhold and have to explain to Rylen that we lost you falling into the abyss. Did you get what you needed?”

“Yes. I will have to meditate on its meaning,” she frowned. “I’m still not sure what the shout is meant to do.”

“Well you can do that later. We still need to find the cause of these quakes. Come on everyone, let's carry on,” Max ordered.


	32. Something to Celebrate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the heavy, angst filled last chapters, we need some fluff!  
> And some smut.  
> If you don't like to read smut, stop reading at the end of the tavern scene.

Being able to see the sky overhead, and even the unrelenting rain on one’s face, was a huge relief for everyone as they re-emerged from the lyrium mine. Valta remained behind to learn from the Titan, and the mining operations could resume now that the earthquakes had subsided. It was just too weird to think that they had been traipsing around _inside_ of the Titan. The entire trip had given everyone much to think about; the ethics of the lyrium trade considering that it was the product of extracting the blood of a living, sentient being without its permission, the potential threat of a Dragonborn Archdemon, and additionally for Gwen – not that the Archdemon nightmare was leaving her alone just yet – the new word, _Revak_. Solas and Dorian rode up beside her as they travelled back to Skyhold. “Any insight as to the new word?” Solas asked her.

“Hmmm?” Gwen startled out of her reverie.

Dorian chuckled. “It’s a good thing you now have your own personal guards to watch over you.” Gwen stuck her tongue out at the mage. “I’ll refrain from making a lewd comment about your tongue…”

“I won’t!” Bull called from behind them.

Dorian cleared his throat ignoring the qunari, “Solas asked if you had any insight to the word you found – assuming that was what has you so engrossed that you have completely ignored the rest of us.”

“Well the word means to sanctify, or to purify.” She shrugged. “I have no idea as to what it specifically it meant to do; it’s unlike any other shout I’ve ever found before.”

“Do you think it has anything to do with lyrium since you found the word within a lyrium mine,” Solas asked.

“Maybe? But, I don’t think so… The first word was found in a dragon’s nest in the Hinterlands, remember. There was no lyrium there.” She shrugged again, “I can’t rule anything out. Is it related to lyrium? Is it related to my nightmare of becoming an archdemon? I just don’t know at this point.” She dipped her chin and cast a glance over her shoulders to see who was close by. With no one terribly close to overhear the conversation, she asked softly, “do either of you have any knowledge about lyrium addiction?” Dorian gave a quick frown and then just as quickly cleared his expression. _Huh, I bet he knows about Cullen_ , Gwen thought.

“Why do you want to know about lyrium addiction? While it’s true that mages can become addicted to it if used too often or its not prepared correctly, you do not use it as your magic comes from another source of power, so it shouldn’t be something you would need to worry about,” Solas replied in a low voice.

“I’m not asking for myself,” she said quietly. “I don’t want this to go beyond us, but I was thinking about what we know about lyrium and the titans, and with the Templar Order being a shadow of its former self, there maybe templars that wish to break those chains.”

“Rylen?” Dorian asked sympathetically. Gwen looked at him and he gave her an almost imperceptible nod of his head confirming her suspicions.

“Yes. We’ve discussed it, but I’ve heard that stopping can kill templars, so I was hoping either of you might have heard or seen something that can help ease the transition off it.”

“We’ll look into it, da'isenatha.”

“Thank you Solas. I, we, would appreciate it.”

* * *

Gwen was relieved to see the soaring towers of Skyhold emerge from the mountain peaks as they drew closer. The banners lifting and snapping in the breeze almost seemed to carry away the weight that had settled on her own soul for the past few weeks. Truly, between her capture by the Qunari and the horror of the Deep Roads, this had been one of the most stressful and _dark_ periods of her life, but as she rode towards Skyhold she couldn’t help feeling lighter especially with the knowledge of who was waiting there for her. She couldn’t wait to be in Rylen’s arms, to wrap herself around him, and replace the memories haunting in her mind with memories coloured with joy. She wanted to rememorize the feel of him, the scent of him, the sound of him. The taste. She closed her eyes briefly as hot throb of need tugged at her.

The horses’ hooves clattered on the cobblestones as they rode under the gate towers and into the lower bailey of the fortress. Stable lads rushed around securing the mounts as they drew to a halt. Gwen threw her leg over Shadowmere’s neck and the high saddle pommel, and slid to the ground in an easy move. She pulled her pack off the spirit horse and hurried across the yard to meet Rylen who was approaching from the training area.

The men watched with varying levels of interest as Gwen slid off Shadowmere and hurried across the bailey to meet Rylen who had come down to the gates upon hearing the watch tower announce their arrival. It gladdened their hearts knowingly to see her mood lift as they got closer to Skyhold. The past few weeks had been trying for all of them; her capture by the qunari, dealing with spies at Caen Bronach, recruiting the Blades, the stress of being in the Deep Roads, and for Gwen – the terrible warning about becoming an Archdemon. They watched as the two lovers met in the yard with a kiss and hug, only for Gwen to pull back from Rylen as he frowned down at her and rubbed the back of his neck while holding onto one hand to prevent her from pulling away as he spoke to her.

“What do you suppose that is about?” Blackwall asked studying the pair.

Max frowned, “I’m not – ” Suddenly Gwen squealed as Rylen scooped her up in a big hug. Then her legs were flying off the ground as he spun them both in a circle, her arms clinging around his neck as she peppered him with kisses, and giggled the whole time.

“I think,” Varric said with a big grin slowly forming on his face, “that Skyhold is going to be having a celebration soon.”

* * *

Rylen pulled Gwen into a hug after their initial greeting kiss. He nuzzled into her hair inhaling her scent, “you’re finally back. Maker, I have missed you so much, lass.”

“I’ve missed you too Rylen,” she replied angling herself around to plant a kiss on the underside of his jaw. “I’m so glad to be back.”

“I, uh… marry me?” he blurted out over her head.

Gwen pulled back to look at him in surprise, “what?”

Rylen frowned, “sorry that wasn’t very romantic. I had a whole plan; dinner in the garden, flowers, wine… but I’m just so happy to see you, mo ghràdh, I couldn’t wait to ask.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The lady advisors are not going to be happy I wasted their efforts…” he said with chagrin.

“Well, you could ask me again later if you like – to keep the lady advisors happy, of course,” she said coyly, “or I could give you an answer now.”

“Now. Tell me now. Will you marry me?”

“Yes! A thousand times, yes!”

Gwen squealed in surprise as Rylen suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist burying his face in her neck as he spun them around in a circle, her legs swinging out as he swept her off her feet. Both were completely oblivious to anything else going on around them. He groaned into her neck, “I love you so much, lass.” He let her slide gently down onto her feet.

She reached up with both of her hands to cup his face, “and I love you,” she whispered, kissing him again. They broke apart; his arm around her shoulders, hers around his waist as he escorted her to her quarters. As soon as they entered her quarters, Rylen spun her around and pressed her back against the door trapping her between it and his body. He ravished her mouth and then as she panted for breath, directed his attention along her jaw and throat. “I wish I didn’t have to return to duty right away,” his voice was low and rough, and his accent thickening with lust, “or I’d take ye to bed and keep ye there until ye canna walk.”

Gwen whined in frustration as she hooked a leg around his hips pulling him in closer. She threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck pulling his head back, and trailed open-mouthed kisses along his throat. “Perhaps it would be me who would render you unable to walk.”

Rylen reached up and pulled her hands from his hair, threading his fingers through hers and held them as he rested his forehead against her own. He gave her a wicked grin, “dinner. Tonight. In the garden, as I had planned. And then we’ll see who wears out whom.”

* * *

“So how long were you planning this?” Gwen asked as she took the seat offered to her by Rylen. The garden was lit with a multitude of little lights that she could only imagine had required the help of Dagna, a mage, or one of the Tranquil. The finer touches such as a table cloth and proper wine goblets were distinctively Josephine’s influence. There was a little nose-gay of sweetly scented flowers that she thought might have been Leliana’s contribution. He _had_ been planning for a while. He prevaricated while he poured her some wine. She raised a brow at him.

“Asking you to marry me has always been my intent since giving you the amulet, but I didn’t know if you would want to – not when one of us could die...”

“Rylen…”

“My vows to the Templar Order have been on my mind. Templars aren’t usually permitted to marry, and while I no longer serve the Order, those vows still weigh on me. There’s also the issue with the lyrium. I ended up discussing it with Cullen. As my commanding officer, and someone who has left the Order and stopped taking lyrium, he was very helpful in providing some insight. We had a great heart to heart chat over a couple games of chess one night; he said that if it helped, he happily gave his blessing.”

Gwen laughed, “well, I’ll have to be sure to thank him.”

“I know you said ‘yes’ out in the yard in the heat of the moment, but I’m not sure what you want. If you’d rather wait until the war is over and I’m off the lyrium, I’d understand.”

Gwen smiled fondly as he fussed with his wine glass; he was avoiding making eye contact with her while he waited for her to retract her answer. “Rylen.” He didn’t look up at her but steeled himself as if to expect a blow. She gave an amused huff and slid out of her chair and sat in his lap forcing him to look at her. “You realise that either one, or even both of us could end up not surviving this war? I’d rather have a single day married to you now than wait for a someday that might not come. My answer is still yes. As for the lyrium, I’ll help you in anyway I can. There is no way I’d make you deal with that yourself if I can help it. So again, my answer is still yes.”

Rylen wrapped his arms tight around her waist and buried his face against her neck, exhaling a big gust of breath that he had been holding. “Thank the Maker! I wasn’t sure what I was going to do with myself if you said no.”

Gwen giggled, “ye of little faith! Back home, we’d invite friends and family to the Temple of Mara to witness the exchange of vows. How does it work here?”

“Something similar. If you want a big ceremony – ” Gwen wrinkled her nose and shook her head. He chuckled. “For something smaller, more intimate, we could have one of the Chantry mothers perform the ceremony within our own little Chantry here in Skyhold. Perhaps invite those friends we want as witnesses?” As he spoke, the melodious sound of the sisters and mothers singing the evening chant from the other side of the garden rose in the surrounding darkness. “There are no scheduled missions within the next few weeks, so it would be a good time.”

“Should we go and invite everyone? Varric told me that they were all gathering in the tavern for a private card game, just Max and his inner circle, and told me to come by later.”

“Hmm, he told me the same thing,” Rylen said, amused.

“After supper then, or did you have other plans?” she teased nipping at his jaw.

“Oh I have plans for you, but they are for later when there won’t be any interruptions,” he replied lifting his chin to give her better access. After a few minutes of becoming lost in each other, he muttered, “if we don’t go for cards, we’re guaranteed interruptions.”

“Hmm, you’re probably right.”

After their private dinner that took much longer to finish than required due to their distraction with each other, they headed over to the tavern. Gwen walked in with Rylen close behind her, his hand resting against the small of her back. “’bout time you showed up, Gwennie. I thought I was going to go send your Blades to find you,” Max drawled, obviously already feeling the effects of whatever alcohol Bull had pushed across the table towards them as they entered.

She made a rude noise and stuck her tongue out at him, “still a sore point there, Max.”

“Will you join us for a few hands?” Josephine waved her hand to two available chairs. “Perhaps you have news to share?” she asked expectantly looking between them, her fingers hovering before her mouth with anticipation.

Rylen smiled at the lady ambassador, “she said yes.”

“Yes, about what?” Max asked, still not cluing into the conversation.

“Marriage,” Rylen replied, his grin getting bigger.

Everyone hugged Gwen, the men clapped Rylen on the shoulder or shook his hand to congratulate him. Gwen gave Cullen a peck on the cheek and whispered _thank you_ to him. He deeply blushed which amused her greatly. There were several squeals of excitement from the women, including Cassandra, who proceeded to blush when Varric raised an eyebrow at her, “really Seeker? Feelings? I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“What? It’s romantic,” she retorted defensively.

Bull scooped Gwen up in a big hug and trying to kiss her, “so does that mean we get to play that game where you steal kisses from the bride?”

She shoved at him to get him to let go of her, giving him a hard punch in the solar plexus when he finally released her, “there’s no such game!”

“We could start a new tradition,” he replied, with a laviscious wiggle of his eyebrows.

“By the Nine, Bull! You’re incorrigible!”

“I know, right?” he grinned. Gwen shook her head and made a disgusted noise that would have made Cassandra proud.

“We have much to plan,” Josephine said excitedly. “A dress, flowers, musicians to hire, food, invitations to be sent…”

Gwen grabbed her hand to get her attention, “whoa Josie. We don’t want that. Just a simple ceremony with our closest friends.”

“But…”

“We want to have the ceremony sooner than later while we’re still all available in Skyhold,” Rylen added. Josephine looked to Max, Cassandra, and Cullen in turn looking for support.

“It’s their choice, Josie,” Max said.

Josephine opened her mouth to protest, then gave an uncharacteristic huff. “First Day celebrations will be held in a few days so we could combine the events.”

“Perfect,” Gwen said hugging the ambassador.

They settled down to play Wicked Grace, taking turns telling stories between hands and drinking. It was Cullen’s turn to tell a story. “The poor recruit ran out into the dining hall in nothing but his knickers. And this… profound silence fell over the hall as seventy mages and thirty templars all turned to stare at once. Then a slow round of applause began, and spread until every soul was on their feet. A standing ovation!”

Josephine giggled, “what did he do?”

“Saluted. Turned on his heel. And marched out like he was in full armour.” The companions all laughed.

“He did not?” Cassandra asked incredulously.

“That was the future King of Ferelden?” Gwen asked. Cullen nodded as he chuckled at the memory.

“You’re shitting us!” Bull laughed, slamming his mug down onto the table.

“That’s how you know it’s true. I could never put that in a book. Too unlikely,” Varric explained. “How about you, Rosy? Got any funny stories you can tell?”

“A funny story, hmm. Oh, I know! When I was training at the College of Winterhold, J’zargo, a Khajit apprentice mage, asked me to test a new spell for him when I was out exploring ruins.”

“What’s a Khajit?” Varric asked.

“Oh, they are, I guess, cat people. Walk around like people but are covered in fur, and have hands and faces like cats. _Very, very_ good rogues, at least usually. It was odd that J’zargo wanted to be a mage,” she shrugged. “Any way, the spell was supposed to be particularly effective against draugr, um, undead. Lydia was with me, so I didn’t _need_ the extra help, but J’zargo was such a cocky bastard that I made him come with me into a barrow I knew was heavily populated to witness the effects of his spell. That and I’d have a convenient place to leave his corpse if the spell went awry.

We’re into the barrow, and haven’t come across any draugr yet; I’m at the front, Lydia behind me, and J’zargo at the back where it should be the safest. He pipes up, ‘If anyone sneaks up on us, I will smell them coming.’” The last part Gwen said mimicking J’zargo’s lispy growl. “No sooner are the words out of his mouth, but a draugr gets up from its tomb and smacks J’zargo in the back of the head knocking him down! A quick scuffle and the draugr is dealt with, J’zargo is still sitting on the floor holding his head looking dazed and says, ‘or he might not. We'll see.’”

Everyone around the table laughed. “What happened with the spell he wanted you to test?” Dorian prompted.

“Well let’s just say that J’zargo was lucky I didn’t bury him in the tomb. When the three of us returned to the College, everyone gave us a wide berth because we reeked of singed cat hair and draugr. The spell exploded spectacularly but toasted us as well as the draugr. Lydia was absolutely furious and wanted to leave after the first attempt, but she was loyal to a fault and wouldn’t leave me there in the tomb with the incompetent J’zargo although she complained bitterly with each attempt!”

Cullen looked incredulous, “you kept casting it after it failed the first time?”

“Oh yes. He had originally asked me to test it three times, so I cast it three times. Took the wind right out of that Khajit’s sails. He became a much better mage although he stayed away from fire magic, and I dare say, a much better friend after that.”

They refilled drinks and played some more hands as others told their own funny stories. “And the dealer takes everything! I win again.”

“Deal again. I’ve figured out your tells, Lady Ambassador.”

“Commander! Everyone knows a lady has no tells.”

“Then let’s see if your good fortune last one more hand.”

All too soon, Cullen was looking decidedly uncomfortable as he sat on his side of the table in nary a stitch. “Don’t say a word, dwarf,” he growled.

Varric chuckled. “I tried to warn you, Curly.”

“Never bet against an Antivan, Commander,” Josephine replied leaning forward with a big smile on her face.

Cassandra made a distressed noise. “I’m leaving. I don’t want to witness our commander’s walk of shame back to the barracks.”

“Well, I do!” Dorian replied.

“Me too!” Gwen giggled.

“No, you won’t, lass,” Rylen growled. Gwen squealed with surprise as he pulled her from her seat, tossed her over his shoulder, and headed out of the tavern for her quarters.

* * *

Rylen kicked the door of her room shut behind them and dropped her onto her bed. Gwen giggled and gave a playful pout, “you owe me a naked templar, ser.”

“Well we canna have it being said that I don’t pay my debts,” he replied, his accent becoming stronger with the combination of drink and lust. Gwen propped herself up on her elbows where she lay back on the bed; he gave her a little smirk and cocked an eyebrow as he backed away and started to slowly remove his clothes. She watched mesmerized as the man she loved slowly peeled away each layer of clothing revealing himself to her. The firelight danced casting his shifting muscles in shadow and light; the marks of his life, scattered scars and old wounds, tattooed bands on his forearms and biceps, marking him with his strength. Gwen felt the heat grow and pool low in her belly as he finally bent and pushed his breeches off his feet. “Is my lady satisfied that my debt is paid in full?” Gwen twirled her finger in the air lazily. He smirked and slowly turned in a circle; when he faced her again he took himself in hand and gave his erect length a couple of rough strokes.

His hooded eyes took on a predatory gleam as Gwen inadvertently made a strangled noise as she watched him handle himself. She licked her lips and gasped, “I think I’m wearing too many clothes.”

“I agree, my girl,” Rylen replied stalking to the end of the bed and grabbing her by the ankle tugged her towards him. She had worn a dress for their evening which now bunch up around her thighs as she slid down the bed. He crouched before her removing her shoes, then with his eyes on Gwen’s watching her every reaction, he slowly slid his hands up the outside of her legs and under her skirt to her hips to grasp her smalls. He suddenly stopped, his eyes widening. “You’re not wearing any smalls!” She slowly shook her head. “You’ve been _bare_ under this dress all night?” She slowly nodded her head, a little smile creeping onto her face. Gwen gave a little jump as Rylen’s hands suddenly clutched her hips where they remained under her skirts as he pressed his face into her thighs and groaned, “Maker take me! You’re going to be the death of me.”

Suddenly, Rylen was towering over her, bunching her dress up in his hands. She lifted her hips from the bed to help him gather the dress from under her and he tugged it up and over her head. She quickly unwrapped her breast band and dropped it to the floor, then scooted back up the bed. He crawled up her body dragging his fingertips against the inside of her knee and thigh; Gwen’s legs fell open to his suggestion. He dragged his fingertips across her folds, “so wet and hot for me already, lass? I wonder…” He dipped his head and pressed the flat of his tongue against her clit as he slid two fingers into her channel.

Gwen’s back bowed as she clutched the bed clothes in her fists, nearly coming undone. She cried out, “Rylen!”

He growled in reply, “I dinna think I can take you slowly tonight – ”

“Good,” Gwen gasped. “We can be slow later. I need you in me now!”

“As my lady commands.” As much as Rylen said he couldn’t take it slowly, he ran his length along her folds teasing them both spreading her slick before lining himself up, and slowly sinking into her allowing her to adjust to his presence after so many weeks apart. He shuddered as he watched his length disappear into her.

The slow glide of Rylen into her was absolute torture, blissful torture, and she couldn’t stand it for much longer. With a buck of her hips, Gwen took Rylen to the hilt and his eyes snapped up to hers. “Please Rylen,” she begged as she flexed her hips grinding against him. With those two words, his control snapped. He pulled back and slammed back into her, rutting against her like it was their first time and their last. She was already so close to her peak that a few hard thrusts and his fingers grazing her pearl sent her crashing into her first orgasm.

Rylen kept moving, riding out her orgasm as he chased his own. The tension built in Gwen again, pushing her higher. “Look at me lass,” he growled out. Her eyes popped open, pale green captured by blue. She whimpered as the intensity was so much, too much, but she couldn’t, she didn’t, want to break free of his gaze. Fire licked through her veins and curled in her belly as her pleasure grew again on the tail of her first orgasm. Her hands ran over his body, nails scraping against his flesh as she started to beg. Rylen trembled as his rhythm stuttered; finally, breaking eye contact he bit down on her shoulder as his release thundered through him. The bright pain of his teeth on her skin sent Gwen tumbling over the precipice again.

They lay still, panting, for a few moments, Gwen smiled as she felt Rylen gently kiss and lave the bite on her shoulder with his tongue. He started to pull out, but she quickly wrapped her legs around his hips and locked her ankles together. “Not yet,” she replied when he chuckled. They kissed and nuzzled each other basking in the afterglow until she could feel him hardening again within her.

He reached back and unlocked her ankles, shushing her with a smirk against her lips as she tried to protest. “Trust me, lass,” he said, then rolled them both over until Gwen was straddling him; still joined, he sat up and pulled her legs around his waist. “Now we can take it slow,” he said kissing her as he lifted her arms around his neck and wrapped his own around her waist, then thrust up into her from below.


	33. Bells are Ringing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Granted, this is probably one of my shortest chapters to date but... worth it?

First Day arrived, and with it, Gwen’s and Rylen’s wedding day. Gwen was just stepping out of her bath when there was a knock on the door to her quarters. “Liesel, can you please see who that is?” She heard some muffled discussion and when she walked out from the wardrobe, she found her room filled with all the women from Max’s inner circle. “Um, is there something I can do for you, ladies?” she asked them, clutching the towel around herself.

Josephine, with her arms full of fabric, giggled. “No. We’re here to do something for you. I have a dress for you,” she said laying the dress out on the bed. “We didn’t know what style you would have worn at home, but since you were marrying a man from Starkhaven, thought it might be appropriate, moreso than an Orlesian dress in any case.”

“Oh, that’s really not…” Gwen started to protest until she saw the dress laid out. She gasped, “that is really beautiful.” The under dress was a simple long-sleeved shift of white silky fabric that had been embroidered all over with swirling patterns of flowers and vines in blue. Over that, the over dress was a simple affair in pale blue that split open below her waist to show off the beautiful embroidery on the layer below it. It was a simple design, but she had never seen anything more beautiful.

“Oh! I’m so glad you like it. We have your measurements from the trip to Halamshiral, and once Rylen mentioned his intent, we got the seamstresses to work right away,” Josephine told her.

“So that whole fuss the other night at cards was a half truth. You were already working on planning the wedding?”

The ambassador blushed, “well, yes.”

Leliana clapped her hands, “come on now, you need to get ready. We need to do your hair, make-up, and you need to pick some shoes.”

Never had Gwen been so fawned over; even when they went to the Winter Palace for the peace talks she had dressed her hair and make up herself with minimal assistance. She was startled when Cassandra started working on her hair with Leliana; Vivienne, of course, took charge of her makeup while Josephine made sure that the clothes were perfect, and Sera was busy putting some final touches to a flower wreath for her head. When they were finished, she stood before the mirror and looked at what they had done. Never had she felt and looked so pretty; she blinked rapidly as she thought of what her mother, and her adopted daughters, would have said if they were with her now. She turned back to the women, “thank you so much for what you have given me today.”

“It’s a good thing you have your own personal guards,” Lelian commented with a sly grin. “Otherwise someone might try to steal you from Rylen.” Gwen blushed.

“Come along darling. Your Knight-Captain awaits,” Vivienne said.

Gwen exited the room after the other women left to hurry to the chantry themselves. Outside her door, six of the Blades snapped to attention. Ivor stepped forward and saluted her, “my lady, we’re here to escort you to your wedding.” The Blades were dressed in crisp new blue tabards over their polished armour. While their armour wasn’t new and showed signs of use; it was all meticulously clean, and they looked every bit of an honour guard.

“Thank you, Ivor. Thank you all,” she replied as they saluted her again.

They made their way across the Great Hall to the garden door and beyond that to the little Chantry. Whispers and comments followed her, but she paid them no mind as she was entirely focused on where she was going. The Chantry was lit with a multitude of candles; Maryden sat in one corner playing some music on a lute while the guests quietly talked among themselves. As they approached the Chantry doors, the Blades flanked the doorway snapping their heels down against the marble as they came to attention. All eyes within, turned to the door as Gwen walked through. Soft murmurs of admiration were whispered, and Gwen ducked her head blushing; then taking a deep breath and looking up to catch Rylen’s eye, she walked to the dias where he was waiting for her.

Rylen reached out his hand to her to assist her as she stepped up to the dais. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. I’m a lucky man,” he said quietly, raising her hand to his lips.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” she replied with a cheeky smile. He smiled back at her.

Mother Giselle stepped forward. “Shall we begin?” Gwen and Rylen turned towards her. “We are gathered here today to witness the union of these two souls in holy matrimony. Your vows,” she prompted.

Gwen turned slightly and placed her hands in Rylen’s as she had been instructed. She looked up and smiled at Rylen, her voice wavered slightly with emotion, “from Mara’s love of us we first learned to love one another. It is from this love that we learn that a life lived alone is no life at all. May we journey forth together in this life and the next, in prosperity and poverty, and in joy and hardship. With this pledge, I bind myself to you, in love, now and forever.”

Rylen released one of his hands briefly to wipe a tear from Gwen’s cheek and clasped her hands again with a smile, “I swear unto the Maker and the Holy Andraste to love this woman the rest of my days…” He paused then copied her own vows, “whatever shall come and cross our path, we will face together. With this pledge, I bind myself to you, in love, now and forever.”

“In the presence of the Maker, Andraste, and before these witnesses, I pronounce you man and wife.” Mother Giselle smiled fondly at the two of them and looked at Rylen, “you may kiss your bride.”

Rylen grinned stepping towards Gwen and directed her hands to his waist. He released them and clasped her face, gently sweeping his thumbs across her cheeks before bowing his head forward to capture her lips in a kiss. The kiss quickly grew heated, and they didn’t even notice when Mother Giselle delicately cleared her throat. The attempt to interrupt the kiss didn’t go unnoticed when a voice piped up from the guests, “you’re still in the Chantry!” They broke apart; Gwen blushing and Rylen grinning as he pulled her against his side as they turned to face their friends.

After receiving congratulations and well wishes from their friends, the party moved into the Great Hall where tables had been set up with food and drink for all the inhabitants of Skyhold to enjoy. Several musically inclined Inquisition members had come together on the dais with their instruments and were playing a variety of tunes for people to dance to as they liked. Gwen and Rylen took the first dance by themselves.

Varric strolled up beside Cassandra, mug in hand, and watched the couple dancing, “Seeker? Is that a _smile_ I see on your face?”

She sighed in annoyance, “it is good to see two people happy during times like these. It gives me hope.”

He made a shocked noise, “YOU are having another feeling. I DO need to mark this on my calendar. Sides, just think Skyhold may end up having little Knight-Captains and Dragonborns running around. If that happens, try not to scare them.”

She glowered at him for a moment, then smirked, “well if they breathe fire like their mother, do be sure to stay out of their way. I’d hate to see all that chest hair go up in flames.” Varric roared with laughter.

After the first dance with Rylen, Gwen was spun away to dance with Max, then Dorian, and Varric. She was surprised to have dances with both Blackwall and Solas; the first surprising her with how well he danced, and the second surprised her that he was partaking in the celebrations at all. She managed to coax Cullen out onto the dance floor for a single dance before Sera snatched her away to whirl them both in mad circles around the Hall.

“Having fun, love?” Rylen asked indulgently as she threw herself onto the bench beside him, taking a deep swallow of chilled wine.

“Mmm, are you?” She leaned over and kissed him on the edge of his jaw.

“Yes. I enjoy watching you dance. Speaking of which, you next dance partner is on his way over.” Gwen turned to look where Rylen was indicating and saw Bull working his way through the crowd, although it wasn’t too difficult as the crowd pretty much _parted_ for him. “Maybe you should give him that kiss he wants so badly.”

She snapped her head around and looked at Rylen in shock. “What?”

“I dare you.” Gwen snickered in response.

“Well Gwen, you’ve danced with all the men but not with me. How about it?”

“I don’t know Bull, I’m looking for Cole at the moment…” she said looking around him.

“Come on, I’ll behave,” he cajoled.

“Really?” Gwen looked at him and raised her eyebrow. “Well, if you’re going to behave…” She held her hand out to him and let him pull her up off the bench. With a quick look over her shoulder with a smirk for Rylen, she followed Bull out onto the dance floor. For his size, Bull danced very well. Not that is was really a surprise to her as she knew how agile he was on the battlefield and having sparred with him on numerous occasions. What was surprising was that he did behave himself; no drifting hands, no comments, she was rather surprised in truth. As the dance came to its conclusion, they drifted to a stop. “Thank you for the dance. And Bull?”

“Yeah?” She crooked her finger at him and he lowered his head closer to her. When he came into range she grabbed a horn and pulled him down, she kissed him full on the lips and released his horn stepping back. Bull stood there stunned for a moment then stood up abruptly. “YES!” he roared. “Taarsidath-an halsaam!”

He tried to grab her up for hug, but she skipped out of reach with a laugh. “Nope, you only get one, you greedy bugger.”

Rylen claimed her again for another dance. It was a rather silly dance that had the lead lift their partner into the air. The men tried to out-do each other by holding their partner up the longest. As the dance progressed, Rylen didn’t place Gwen back on the floor so much as let her slide through his arms and down his body. They stared into each other’s eyes; the looks getting more heated with every lift becoming more acutely aware of each other’s desire. Gwen was flushed and gasped as she felt his arousal pressed against her body as they finally drifted to the center of the dance floor oblivious to the other dancers; their hands becoming entangled in each other’s hair as they got caught up with kissing each other.

Suddenly, the big doors crashed open against the stone walls startling everyone to a standstill. Rylen immediately spun Gwen behind him as he reached a hand to his sword. Hawke stormed into the room in a whirl of snow, Fenris trailing behind him, “we know where the Wardens are gathered!” Behind him, the bells started ringing announcing the end of the year and start of the new.

Varric sighed and shook his head, “way to make an entrance, Hawke.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Rolls eyes* Way to cock block Hawke - teehee, that rhymed!  
> Translation (probably unneeded but): Taarsidath-an halsaam - "I will bring myself sexual pleasure later, while thinking about this with great respect."  
> I've been playing with those online doll creators and made this. Gwen and Rylen:  
> 


	34. Plans and Songs for the Road

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Spoilers for the Skyrim - Dark Brotherhood quest line **

“The Wardens are gathering at Adamant. The Tevinter magister, Erimond, that we met at the ritual tower during our first visit to the Western Approach is the one guiding the Warden-Commander to complete the blood ritual to bring forth the demon army within the fortress,” Hawke told the group gathered in the war room. Max, his advisors, the inner circle, and Rylen as Cullen’s second were gathered around the war table. Gwen leaned against the wall listening.

“Fortunately for us, that means the fortress was built before the age of modern siege equipment. A good trebuchet will do major damage to those ancient walls, and thanks to our lady Ambassador’s efforts, we have trebuchets available to us from an ally in Jader,” Cullen stated shifting a marker on the map laid out before them.

“What about if the Wardens have already summoned the demons?” Max asked.

“The Inquisition forces can breach the gate, but if the Wardens already have their demons we’ll need to use the fortress’ choke points – here, here, and here,” Cullen pointed out on the map. “We may not be able to defeat them outright, but if we cut off reinforcements, we can carve you a path to Warden-Commander Clarel.”

Max sighed, “taking this fortress is going to get a lot of good soldiers killed.”

“Our soldiers know the risks, Inquisitor. And they know what they’re fighting for. It will be hard-fought, no way around it. But we’ll get that gate open for you.”

Gwen pushed herself from the wall, “I can help you with that and minimize the casualties.” All heads turned to her. “When you get the gates open, you are still going to have to contend with the Wardens’ defensive line behind that gate. Space will be at a premium and you won’t be able to get enough of your forces funneled through that gate to break through before those soldiers are picked off by the defenders. The best way to break a shield wall is with a wedge. I can be that wedge.”

“No!”

Gwen turned to look at Rylen, her eyebrow rising. “And pray tell me why not, husband.” The other men in the room shuffled their feet and cleared their throats in discomfort; the women in the room were amused.

“It’s too dangerous. I won’t…” Her other brow rose. “I mean… You can’t…” he stuttered.

“How many of your soldiers have broken a siege? Been the first one through a fortified enemy’s lines? I’ve done this before, and I can do it again. Ulfric used me to break the lines at the sieges of Whiterun and Solitude. Solitude was not only a major city, but also the Imperial army’s head quarters and heavily fortified as they withdrew their forces for their final stand. I can do this at Adamant. Once I break the line, the soldiers have a better chance of gaining a foothold inside the gates.”

“It could work,” Max replied looking at Cullen, who nodded in agreement. Rylen frowned and crossed his arms. Max looked at the captain and then to Gwen, “perhaps we can have a demonstration later before we make our final decision.”

Gwen shrugged, “if you like, but I won’t demonstrate against the Inquisition soldiers. If I’m going to prove that I can do this then _you_ ,” she looked pointedly at Rylen, “are going to be the ones standing against me.”

Max smirked, “agreed.”

* * *

Gwen trotted down the stairs from the armoury after picking up a shield that had the right weight and size for her to use comfortably. She wore a new set of armour that she and Harritt had been working on with some of the dragon webbing and scales that were available from the two dragons she had taken down. It wasn’t the same as her dragon armour lost under Haven, but it was an acceptable set. She needed to spend some time working with Dagna to add some enchantments to the armour to finish it off, but for this test run, it was good enough. She expected to see Max, Rylen, Cullen, and Blackwall on the field to meet her, but was surprised to see Hawke, Cassandra, Fenris, and a few of the Chargers on the field as well. She walked over to the weapon racks and pulled two practice swords and sheathed them over her shoulder for attack once she broke the line. “You’re not going to join the line, Bull?” she asked as he walked over.

“Nah, there’s no qunari within the Warden ranks. Besides, I already know what it feels like to be knocked on my ass by you.”

Gwen snorted a laugh. “I’m surprised some of your Chargers are on the line.” She waved her hand over the gathering soldiers. “They’ve all seen it before.”

“Heh, they’ve seen you in action, but they haven’t _felt it_ and they’re curious. It’s a good opportunity for them,” he grinned at her. “So you gonna pull your hits?”

She shook her head. “Nope. They want to know if I can break the line so they’re going to get everything I have.”

He nodded with approval with a slap to her back that nearly wiped her off her feet. “Good. Show them what you’ve got, Asaaranda. I’ve got money riding on you.”

“Your group ready, Inquisitor?” Gwen asked as she approached the waiting group, looking at everyone briefly.

“Yes, we are.”

“Good. You’re all experienced; you know what would take you out of the fight. If you receive a hit like that, down you go. Commander, tell me; how long should I expect to hold my own before the rest of your forces would arrive to back me up?”

“If you can adequately break the line and distract the Wardens, no more than two minutes to get enough soldiers through the gates to support you.”

Gwen nodded. “All right. Let me know when you are ready. I wouldn’t want to take advantage of the line being unprepared.” She strode away and pulled on a plain helmet she borrowed from the armoury as well. She really needed to make one of those for herself; _maybe something like the Jagged Crown,_ she thought to herself, _that would scare the shit out of people_. Cullen barked out an order and everyone shifted into position, overlapping the edges of their shields as they braced themselves and dug in their feet.

“Ready!”

She invoked the dragon aspect, turned, and ran at the line with the shield in front of her. “ _Fus Ro Dah_ ,” she shouted at them. She saw a waver in the line as they staggered under the force of her shout. Gwen picked up her speed and with her shoulder behind the shield, slammed into the weak spot punching through their defense. She immediately flung her shield away and pulled the swords, spinning around to face the back of the line. “ _Su Grah Dun!”_ she shouted, her attack speed increased with the power of her shout. She caught Hawke straight away from behind and flipped him off his feet as she hit him in the backs of his legs with both of her swords. A pair of Chargers went down, and then she lost track of who was where and who was down until she heard a piercing whistle. She paused with her swords at the ready and looked around her. Just about everyone was down or was in some way looking like they had taken a hit or two from her.

“Maker’s hairy balls,” Blackwall growled getting slowly back to his feet. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”

Max stood leaning on his practice sword, panting. “Okay, we’re convinced. Remind me again why I don’t spar with you,” he said sliding down to the ground.

“Are you convinced?” she asked looking at Rylen and Cullen who were conferring together. “I can show you another way that doesn’t require brute force.”

“Yes, show us,” Cullen replied.

As everyone got back onto their feet and adjusted their armour for the next demonstration, Gwen strolled over to where Dorian, Solas, and Hawke were watching. “Sitting this one out, Hawke?”

The mage snorted, “being smashed into the ground by a dragon, even one your size, once a day is good enough for me.”

Gwen smirked then looked to Dorian and Solas, “I need you two to do something for me, please. I need you both to cast as strong a barrier as you can over them.”

“Over them?” Dorian asked confused.

“Yes. The moment I vanish from the field, you need to barrier them because there is going to be a rather large explosion.”

“Is that wise, da'isenatha?” Solas asked, frowning slightly.

“Probably not, but they need to know what I’m capable of. That I have options. It’s for the benefit of the Inquistion’s forces that I be the one to break the lines at Adamant and they need to know without a doubt that I am their best choice to accomplish this. But I don’t want them getting hurt, so I need you to barrier them very well.”

“Ooh, Fenris is not going to like this,” Hawke drawled.

“Do you want to call him out of the line?” she asked, concerned.

“Nope. He wanted to do this, so he can deal with whatever you dish out,” he replied with a big grin. “I can barrier as well. I can do Fenris’ section; he’s familiar with the feel of my barriers so he’ll be less likely to freak out and try to kill you afterwards.”

“All right, we’ll do it,” Solas said. Dorian nodded as well.

“Thank you.” Gwen returned to her position on the field. “Are you ready?”

“We’re ready,” Cullen replied.

Gwen ran towards them just as she did before but as she did she prepared her invisibility spell. She made eye contact with Rylen as she raced towards him and then as she dropped her shield, she vanished before them. She immediately used her Become Ethereal shout to pass right through the line, right through Rylen. The defensive line shifted slightly as they looked at the shield on the ground and glanced around for her when suddenly there was a massive fireball that exploded in their midst scattering them and breaking the line. Gwen immediately cast a simple ice spell to extinguish the flames in the area.

Most of the defenders looked stunned, Fenris looked furious. His lyrium tattoos blazed as he jumped to his feet. He grabbed Gwen yanking her back against his armour as he wrapped his hand around her throat. She could feel the sharp claws of the gauntlet dig into her flesh. “Fasta vass! You fucking mages playing with power regardless of who might be hurt…”

Hawke had hurried over, his hands held up in a conciliatory manner, “Fenris. Calm down and let her go. No one was in any danger; Gwen made sure of that before she begun.”

“I suggest that you let go of me. Right. Now,” Gwen growled at Fenris, the power of her Thu’um rumbled just below the words.

Hawke sucked in a sudden breath as he saw the flash of fire in her eyes. “Fenris. You need to let go.”

Gwen was out of patience. “ _Tiid Klo Ul,”_ she shouted. Around her, time slowed down to nearly a stand still, she reached up and pulled Fenris’ hand from her throat and stepped away. Fenris’ and Hawke startled as time resumed its normal speed and Gwen was no longer in his grip. “Do that again Fenris,” she warned, “and I _will_ kill you.” She whipped the two practice swords down lodging them into the ground between his feet then stalked away to join Rylen, Cullen, and Max to discuss strategies.

Varric walked over to Hawke and Fenris, shaking his head. “Broody,” he sighed, “don’t make an enemy out of her. She’s a good kid, and could be a good friend if you let her.”

* * *

Travelling with an army was slow going. While the army marched from dawn until dusk, they were still on foot and couldn’t do more than twelve to fifteen miles per day with all the supplies and equipment they carried, and pulled along with horse-drawn carts. Getting out of the Frostbacks was tediously slow going due to the mid-winter weather and treacherously icy roads, but once they hit the Imperial Highway, the pace picked up somewhat and they were thankful for the cold weather that kept the ground hard under their feet and wheels. Spring would have turned the road into a muddy, rutted mess and made the journey immensely more difficult. Gwen, Varric, Sera, and many of the scouts ranged along the flanks of the army caravan to watch for the enemy; bandits stayed far away as none would be bold enough to try to engage an army. They also took advantage of hunting to bring back fresh meat to feed the army rather than dipping too often into their supplies that they would inevitably need when they were in the harsh desert environment of the Western Approach. Hawke had already reminded them of the scarcity of meat beyond hunting quillbacks and hyenas; while the meat from carrion scavengers was edible, it was rarely that palatable.

In the evenings, Gwen sat with Max and the others while Rylen did his rounds through the troops. “Hey Rosy? You travelled with an army back home; pick up any songs that are good for the road?”

“Haven’t your heard enough of her singing voice every night, Varric?” Hawke asked.

“I just want to hear some different lyrics besides ‘oh Rylen’!”

“Varric!” Gwen exclaimed, embarrassed.

“Nah, it’s a little higher pitched than that,” Bull commented, sitting down after checking in with his Chargers. Gwen turned and glared at him.

“While newly-weds are terribly romantic,” Cassandra added as she sat cleaning a piece of armour, “I, too, wouldn’t mind a change of song.” That got everyone laughing.

With the noises of the army settling into the night time routine, Gwen didn’t hear Rylen sneak up behind her. She could help the squeal of surprise when he suddenly wrapped his arms around her and clamped his teeth against her shoulder.

“Huh? Well now we know the cause of that particular noise,” Sera laughed.

Gwen glowered at them, “I hate you all.”

Rylen laughed against her shoulder and kissed her on the neck in apology as he settled down beside her. “Come on, lass. Sing us a song,” he coaxed her.

“Fine,” she grumbled. “Let me see if there’s a lute that I can use.”

“Already taken care of,” Varric said passing the lute around the circle to her.

Gwen strummed the lute to warm up her fingers and check the tuning of the instrument. “This was a song that was popular with the Stormcloaks and their sympathisers.” She strummed a few chords and then started to sing:

“We drink to our youth, and to days come and gone.  
For the age of oppression is now nearly done.  
We'll drive out the Empire from this land that we own.  
With our blood and our steel we'll take back our home.

All hail to Ulfric! You are the High King!  
In your great honor we drink and we sing.  
We're the children of Skyrim, and we fight all our lives.  
And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies!  
But this land is ours and we'll see it wiped clean.  
Of the scourge that has sullied our hopes and our dreams!

All hail to Ulfric! You are the High King!  
In your great honor we drink and we sing.  
We're the children of Skyrim, and we fight all our lives.  
And when Sovngarde beckons, every one of us dies!

We drink to our youth, to the days come and gone.  
For the age of oppression is now nearly done.”

“Where did you learn to play and sing like that?” Hawke asked.

“The Bard’s College, although from my understanding bards are somewhat different here than what I am used to. The Bard’s College taught singing, musical instruments, dancing, and storytelling; no murder or mayhem.” She glanced into the fire as memories rose in her mind. “I had a lovely house in Solitude next door to the College. It was a shame I had to abandon it after the fiasco with the Emperor,” she commented absently.

“You mentioned something about an assassination of an Emperor when we were in Crestwood,” Max prompted her. “You never did tell me the story about that.”

“No, I didn’t.” She didn’t elaborate further but bent to strum the lute instead.

“Come on, you can’t hold out on us now. You didn’t tell us you were an assassin! How’d that happen?” Bull asked.

“It started with a child…”

Fenris interrupted, glaring at her with disgust, “you killed a child!”

“No! I would never kill a child!” Gwen glared right back. “I was in Windhelm; I don’t even remember why I was there in the first place, but I heard about this orphan, Aventus Aretino, was performing a ritual to summon the Dark Brotherhood. That was the assassin’s guild. I had no idea what this ritual was, but everyone was horrified that a child was doing it, and I went to see for myself. Aventus mistakenly thought I was part of the Dark Brotherhood and asked me to kill the head mistress of the orphanage he had been sent to in Riften. I agreed to the contract; either the child was lashing out from grief at being orphaned, or perhaps there was something amiss. Either way, I was going to look into it and get the child looked after.”

“What did you find?” Bull asked.

Gwen looked at him, “I killed Grelod the Kind far more quickly than she deserved.” She shuddered and moved to sit between Rylen’s knees with her back against him, he automatically draped his arms over her shoulders. “The words she said to those kids were bad enough but the closet with the child sized shackles… She died instantly; I should have made it last longer.” Bull nodded, lost in his own memories of burnt out dormitories. “Any way, it caught the attention of the Dark Brotherhood and I ended up joining their guild. Most of my contracts were on Imperial targets or their sympathisers so I didn’t really have a problem with it. I tried to maintain a neutral position publicly as far as the civil war was concerned; I was too well known thoughout the country as Dragonborn to declare my support for the Stormcloaks or the Imperials and deal with the hassle that would have entailed, but those close to me knew I wouldn’t support the Imperials. Not after they tried to chop off my head for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn’t share my sympathies with Astrid, the head of the Dark Brotherhood, but I think she suspected or she was simply jealous that the Night Mother chose me as Listener over her.”

“But what about the Emperor?” Max prompted impatiently.

“I’m getting to that! Astrid sold me out to the Imperials. I was on a job infiltrating as ‘the Gourmet’; a famous chef that was to serve a special meal to the Emperor while he was visiting the Imperial head quarters in Solitude. Astrid tipped the Imperials, I ended up killing a decoy, and the Imperials cornered me. I managed to escape but only after Commander Maro tipped his own hand that he was betraying Astrid in turn and had launched an attack on the sanctuary. I didn’t get there in time, only two people managed to escape the slaughter.” Gwen removed one of the daggers, the Blade of Woe, from where she carried them against her back, and twirled it in the firelight shuddering at a memory. “Astrid performed the black sacrament with herself as the sacrifice. She gave me the real information on where to find the Emperor. I boarded the Emperor’s ship back at Solitude and I eliminated his Penitus Oculatus; he and I shared a glass of wine and then I completed the job.”

Dorian snorted, “you shared a glass of wine with the Emperor before you killed him?”

“Yes. Emperor Titus Mede the second was a lovely man, and had excellent taste in wine. It would have been a shame not to grant him that last request; a glass of wine and then a quick death.” She stared at Dorian and twirled the blade in her hand. Dorian’s eyes widened, and he sat up stiffly as he stared at her. After a couple of seconds, Gwen burst out laughing as she put the dagger away, and the others joined in as Dorian huffed in annoyance.

“I hope you got paid well for that job,” Bull commented.

“Hmmm, yes. Twenty thousand gold.” Her audience gasped; most sitting around the fire had been mercenaries or sell-swords in one way or another, and had never heard of or seen such large payments themselves.

“You never told me I married a rich woman, lass!” Rylen teased, stroking his hands down her shoulders and arms, and then back up as she sat before him.

Gwen tipped her head back to look at him, “too bad for us both it’s all hoarded away in Skyrim.”

He ran the knuckles on one hand gently up her throat as he dipped his head to kiss her. “Nevermind, lass. As long as I have you…”

Someone on the otherside of the fire cleared their throat. Gwen raised an eyebrow and tipped her head slightly towards the tents as she looked up at Rylen. He smiled and helped her stand. “Here Varric,” she said passing him the lute, “I won’t be needing this for the next song.” She stepped over the log and giggled as Rylen grabbed her hand and tugged her into the darkness towards their tent.

“It _is_ very romantic,” Cassandra said watching them disappear.

Varric chuckled, “are you a woman or a Seeker?”

“Sometimes, I am both.”

* * *

Rylen held the tent flap open while Gwen crawled in. She cast a little magelight and sent it to the top of the tent to provide a little light while they rolled out their bedrolls and helped each other out of their clothing. He lay beside her stroking over her ribs and across her belly feeling the muscles twitch with the passage of his fingers. “Are you all right, lass?” he asked quietly.

“Yes. Why would I not be?” she replied puzzled by his question.

“I meant the teasing by the others. Does it bother you?”

“No. They don’t say it to be mean or hurtful.”

“I’m glad, because we can desist if it does bother you.”

Gwen gave a shriek of mock outrage and rolled herself up until she was straddling Rylen’s hips. “You wouldn’t dare!”

He chuckled shaking his head against the bedroll, “I don’t think I could.”

She started kissing and laving his skin as she made her way down his neck and chest, “I suppose if you wanted to spare my sensibilities, you could add your own voice to the chorus,” she said nipping his bare hip with her teeth. She narrowed her eyes at him when he didn’t make a sound other than to suck his breath through his teeth. She gave him a wicked grin, and he moaned quietly watching her through hooded eyes as she swiped her tongue up his length. “Louder my, love,” she said as she took him into her mouth and made him sing.


	35. Breaking Adamant

The Western Approach was a study of contrasts; the days were blisteringly hot, the constant winds that buffeted and tugged at everything, and whipped sand into every crevice of skin and clothing. At night, the winds stopped as the temperatures plummeted with the setting sun sending everyone into close groups shivering around the campfires and under furs in their bedrolls. The Inquisition forces marched from the heartlands of Orlais, filled with grasslands and trees, into the desert where the grass became sparce and dry, and the trees dwindled into twisted, gaunt things that clung to whatever little bit of ground they could in desperation to survive and compete with the more adapted plants like deathroot and witherstalk. More than once they passed the skeletal remains of creatures picked clean and scoured white by scavengers, and the relentless cycle of sun and wind. In the ages that had passed since the Second Blight had swept across the region, the land had descended into a wasteland with little hope for reclamation or rebirth.

Adamant Fortress stood at the edge of the Abyssal Rift, an intimidating presence made of dark jetstone and metal in a sea of red shifting sand. The sand flowed and skittered past everyone and everything in an unending whisper all day that made the night time deafening in its silence. The fortress showed the signs of its own very recent violent past; scorch marks and burnt out husks of buildings from being over-run by demons just the year before, now it welcomed demons once again. The Inquisition forces arrived late in the afternoon and set up camp to besiege the fortress. Firelight from torches on the walls and within glimmered on metal statues of griffons that decorated the ramparts of the fortress; they eerily reminded Gwen of the gargoyles that decorated Harkon’s castle when she had visited it with Serana. She kept an eye on them wondering if they would suddenly come to life and descend on the unwary with twisted claws and sharp beaks.

In the morning they would start the assault on the fortress; depending on how long it took to batter down the massive doors, she would be in there tomorrow. She sat against the stone outcropping and studied what she could see of the fortress below her vantage point. She had gone over the plans in detail with Cullen, Rylen, and Max to fix in her mind the choke points and likely locations for heavy resistance by the Wardens until she was sure she could navigate through the fortress blindfolded if needs be, but some trepidation still lingered. It was a natural feeling to have because no matter how well you planned, or how experienced you were, things could still happen that you didn’t expect and that was what she was trying to find peace with now. She didn’t react when Varric walked up beside her and leaned against the rock she sat against. She heard stones skitter across the rock face as Hawke joined them; Fenris’ lyrium hummed and made her skin itch announcing his presence to her. “ _Laas Yah Nir,_ ” she whispered.

“What are you looking at, Rosy?” Varric asked quietly.

“I’m trying to see how many Wardens are in there, and if they’ve summoned their demons yet.”

“You can tell the difference between a person and a demon?” Hawke asked.

Gwen cocked her head to the side studying what the aura whisper shout revealed to her then growled in frustration, “no, I don’t think so. Damn it to Oblivion, I should have tested this when we closed one of those rifts on our way here! I can’t tell if there are just Wardens, if any of the mages are possessed, or if there are demons which could appear as Wardens or don’t show up at all.”

“Well after this, if you want to try that out on an abomination I know where to find one,” Hawke quipped. Fenris made a disgusted noise and muttered something in Tevene.

Gwen snapped her head around and looked at Hawke, her eyes growing wide as she realised who he was referring to having recently finished reading Varric’s book. “Wait,” she said looking at Varric, “I thought he was dead? Didn’t And-”

“ _Don’t_ say his name,” Varric said, casting an incredulous look at Hawke. “No one other than us three, well four, now that you know, are aware that he’s alive. It’s better if everyone thinks he’s dead.” She looked at him and Hawke, and gave a sharp nod of her head; this world was too prickly about mages. He gestured back to the campfire, “you going to join us for a drink?”

Gwen rolled her shoulders and stood up. “No. Thank you, Varric. I’m going to turn in and try to get some rest. I want to be as clear headed as I can in the morning.”

“Sure thing Rosy. Max has called a final strategy meeting just before dawn. You goin’ to be there?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there. See you in the morning.”

Gwen headed back to the tents stopping for a brief word with Liesel and the Blades that had accompanied her with instructions for the next day, then headed into her tent. The bed rolls were laid out and two armour stands stood silently in the corners of the tent on either side of the door flaps. Absently, Gwen undid the ties that secured her vambraces and placed them on a trunk by the armour stand, then undid the buckles and lifted the cuirass over her head and placed it on the stand. She wiped the sand and dirt that had been deposited on the armour by the winds until the dragonscale and Silverite gleamed under the low light of the lantern. The dragon claws jutted out along the pauldrons to sit above the Silverite scales and woven dragon webbing that would encase her arms. Her finished helm sat on the table, carved pieces of dragonbone made to look like claws guarded her cheeks and chin, two twisted pieces swept back from the crown like the dragon’s horns the bone came from. Her armour taken care of, the wriggled out of her clothing and pulled on a sleep shirt and light pants; it wouldn’t do to be caught bare arsed in a surprise attack when sleeping this close to an enemy. Staring at the tent walls while she rebraided her hair, she jumped in surprise when Rylen put his arms around her waist. “Sorry lass, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologized, kissing the side of her neck. “In fact, I’m rather surprised that I did startle you. Are you having second thoughts about tomorrow? Because if you are, we can discuss a different strategy with the Inquisitor and the Commander right now…” He started to pull back from Gwen.

She placed her hands on his stopping him from pulling away and leaned back against his chest. “No. No second thoughts; I’m still the best person to go through those gates first. It’s just…” she trailed off, frowning.

He hummed against her temple to prompt her. “It’s just?”

“It’s just… I’ve never gone into a battle with so many friends. With people that I love,” she said turning her head back over her shoulder to look up at him. “I’m worried about them. About _you_.”

Rylen dipped his head down and kissed her. He stroked his thumb across her cheekbone as he cradled her jaw in his hand, “we’re worried about you too. Come, let’s go to bed.” Rylen tugged her into his arms, wrapping them around her, once they got settled under the furs and blankets. Snug against his chest, he kissed her on the forehead, “sleep mo ghràdh, I’ll watch over you.”

* * *

Gwen slipped into the command tent after getting dressed and issuing her last orders to Liesel and the Blades to monitor the outskirts of the fortress and inform Cullen or Rylen if they spotted any Wardens attempting to enter as reinforcement or leaving to escape. She stood quietly listening to the scouting updates and final instructions from the Commander when her name was mentioned, and a sudden gasp quieted the tent. She flicked her eyes up glancing at the others present, “what? Is there something on my face?” she asked innocently.

In a heartbeat, Bull growled, “yeah, and it’s bad-ass.”

Gwen’s hair was raked back from her face with a bunch of little braids until it was all twisted into a solitary braid down her back, punctuated with sharpened spikes of dragon bone to deter anyone from grabbing her hair but also turning her braid into a weapon itself. Black war paint shadowed her eyes making her pale green eyes appear to glow from the dark, but more shocking was the blood red paint that covered her bottom lip, three finger trails in red traced her chin and followed the line of her throat until they disappeared under the edge of her armour.

Cullen cleared his throat, “if we can continue. Gwen will be the first through the gate. Break the line and drive the Wardens back so they can’t reinforce the courtyard against us.”

Gwen nodded. “I’ll go through as soon as there is a hole big enough for me to get through. My dragon aspect will give me additional protection and ability, but if you’re not through with the Inquisition forces within ten minutes, I might be in trouble.”

“Understood. Inquisitor, Stroud will watch your back once you enter, and Hawke will assist clearing the battlements until you are ready to advance to Warden-Commander Clarel’s location. Any questions?” Cullen glanced around, “all right. Maker watch over all of us.”

Everyone filed out of the tent, Gwen held back to catch Rylen before they went to their separate assignments. Rylen caught her arm and turned her towards him. “Be safe, lass, and come back to me,” he said quietly.

“I will. You be safe too.” Gwen grasped his hand and dropped a chain and pendant in his palm. “I’ve had this since I went to Val Royeaux but things kept getting in the way of me giving it to you. I just want to make sure you have it before… in case…” Rylen looked at the amulet, a bronze dragon twisting around it self to chase its tail. “I had Dagna put a protection rune on it.”

“I’ll keep in close, but you _are_ coming back to me. There is no ‘in case’, lass.”

Gwen nodded, wrapping her fingers into his cuirass she pulled herself up on her toes and kissed him. “I love you,” she said with a soft smile as she wiped away a bit of the red war paint with her thumb that had smudged on his mouth from her kiss.

Rylen caught her hand and placed a kiss on the inside of her palm, “I love you too.”

Gwen settled the helm onto her head and pulled on the gauntlets. She flexed her fingers reacquainting herself with the feel of them, the rising sun glinted off the talon-like finger tips. She rolled her shoulders checking the feel of her armour; satisfied that everything sat comfortably she picked up the shield she was going to use when she breached the fortress and jogged over to the rocky outcrop where the others were also waiting until they could enter. The sky remained dark even with the growing morning light, ominous clouds hung low pressing down oppressively over the area in response to the gathering magic pressing at the Veil.

The trebuchets thrummed as they launched their fiery missiles at the walls to create distractions while the battering ram slowly rolled forward under the muscle of the soldiers. Soldiers clinging to hook ladders lifted to the walls in a valiant attempt to gain a foothold on the battlements. Wardens fired arrows, threw rocks and other debris down on the soldiers. Screams rended the air as people on both sides of the battle were injured or killed. The battering ram slammed into the gates shaking dust, sand, and splintered of wood as the gates creaked and resisted the onslaught. Gwen felt the thump of the battering ram like an echo in her bones, adrenaline spiking with each shudder of the wood. She bounced on her toes, psyching herself up, letting the power of the dragon souls stir within her. Slowly, cracks started appearing in the wood of the gates as metal groaned under pressure. With a final huff, she hopped down from her perch and jogged across the space between the outcropping and the battering ram, soldiers moved out of her way to let her by unhindered.

She stood on the battering ram and leaned into the swing as she raised the shield to deflect incoming arrows, “I am Bone-breaker!” she yelled. The Inquisition soldiers around her howled in response. She shifted her balance as the ram swung back and then leaned into the swing again, “I am Stormblade!” A louder cheer answered her as soldiers rattled their swords against their shields. She could see the gate was going to break on the next hit and regripped her shield ready to make her move. The ram swung down, and she screamed, the thu’um lending power to her voice, “I am Dragonborn!” She invoked the dragon aspect in that instant as the gate splinted and fell open, she sprinted down the length of the ram and leapt through the opening letting the momentum of the ram propel her forward.

Arrows pinged off the ethereal armour as her feet touched the stones inside the gate. She flicked her eyes around rapidly assessing the strength of the opposition and their distribution without stopping her forward movement, and then she shouted her Unrelenting Force shout making the shield wall before her buckle precisely as she planned. She leaned her shoulder into her shield and slammed herself into Wardens that remained on their feet around the weak point created by her shout. She flung her shield away and drew her two swords throwing herself back into the fray.  “ _Ven Nos Gar_ ,” she shouted as she slashed and parried her way through the warriors around her, a howling swirling wind answered her shout and tore through the courtyard scattering the Wardens further in the chaos that resulted.

“Pull back! They’re through,” a Warden called out. Gwen saw Inquisition soldiers start to come through the gate into the expanding clear space she made before it. She jumped back as the broken body of an Inquisition soldier slammed into the stones at her feet. Wardens and some Shade demons prowled the walls above the gates and outer walls making it difficult for the soldiers to gain a foothold. Without a moment’s hesitation she sprinted up the stairs to the wall and started working her way through them sending one Shade tumbling off the wall to land in a gooey green splat directly in front of the Inquisitor and the Commander when they entered the fortress. She peered over the side of the wall and flashed them a feral grin when they looked up in surprise, then dashed off to another section of the wall.

“Hey Asaaranda! Having fun?”

Gwen whirled around to see Bull, Varric, Hawke, and Fenris come up the stairs behind her. “About time you got here! I thought I was going to have to clear this place by myself!” she bantered back at Bull. “You’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

A chilling laugh filled the air as lightning crackled across the walls. “How ‘bout I take that down and we call it even?” Bull asked tipping his horns at the Pride demon that appeared after a Warden mage slit the throat of another Warden.

“Sure, if you can get to it before me,” she taunted him as she eyed the break in the wall from their location to the the section of the ramparts where the demon was located.

“Hey wait – you’re not going to do that leaping thing…”

“ _Wuld Nah Kest_!” Gwen shot across the gap as her Whirlwind Sprint propelled her forward.

“That’s _cheating_!”

She giggled and called out in a sing-song tone over her shoulder, “move faster!” Bull growled and charged down the broken stonework to take a shortcut.

Hawke looked a little incredulous, he turned to Varric, “are they always like this?”

Varric snorted a laugh, “yeah, usually. The bigger the baddie, the worse they get. We should probably go help before they get themselves in trouble.”

* * *

Gwen lost herself in the battle, hacking and slashing, using her shouts, to clear the ramparts of demons and Warden mages to let the Inquisition soldiers gain a foothold and to watch Max’s back as he pressed onward to reach Warden-Commander Clarel. She stopped abruptly when she heard the distinctive sound of a dragon scream. “Bull!”

“I hear it,” he growled as he, too, started scanning the sky to see where it was coming from. The dragon appeared out of the thick clouds and swooped around the fortress disappearing momentarily into the Abyssal Rift behind the fortress before appearing again.

“There! It’s heading for the central courtyard,” she pointed at the far side of the fortress. She dropped over the edge of the rampart to a landing below, and then another one again to reach the ground. Bull’s heavier steps followed her as she took off at a run to reach the Inquisitor and the dragon. She and others rushed through the winding halls and staircases to reach the central courtyard to find no Inquisitor but Wardens fighting alongside Inquisition forces against the demons that were coming out of the rift in the center.

A hand gripped her elbow pulling her around as she ran into the space. “Maker, you’re all right! I hadn’t heard of or seen you for hours.”

Gwen looked up from the hand gripping her into Rylen’s relieved eyes. “I am. Are you?” He nodded. “Rylen, love, which way did Max go? That dragon…”

“Aye, lass. Go. Up the stairs,” he nodded in the direction of the stairs. “Be careful.” She gave his hand a quick squeeze even as he let go of her elbow and she was off again in a flash running up the stairs.”

“Do you think you can bring that dragon down?” Bull asked as he ran with her breathing heavily much like his namesake.

“I don’t know. I hope so. My shouts have worked on other dragons here. Damn, I wish that demon hadn’t taken my sword!”

They got the top of the tower behind Max and his party. Erimond lay huddled on the ground between Max and Clarel, hurling insults at the Warden-Commander. She stalked towards him, “I will never serve the Blight.” Suddenly the dragon shot up from the crevasse below the broken edge of the tower and snapped Clarel up in its jaws, flying over their heads to land on the walls surrounding the tower.

Max’s group backed up on the tower balcony while Gwen, Bull, and Fenris shifted to the side to try to flank the dragon. The dragon threw Clarel’s broken body down on to the stones in front of Max and slowly stalked down from the walls. “ _Gol Ha Dov_ ,” Gwen shouted hoping the Bend Will shout would let her take control of the dragon. It turned its head towards her and for a moment a feeling of exhilaration rose in her chest.

“ _Hi los ni aan dov. Vobalaan wah viik dovah_!” the dragon roared at her. “ _Hi fen funt ulse_!” It blasted them with lyrium fire; they dove out of the way and Gwen found to her dismay that she was trapped underneath a piece of fallen masonry that collapsed under the brunt of the dragon’s attack. She struggled desperately to free herself as she heard but couldn’t see the dragon stalk towards the Inquisitor and his group. Suddenly there was a loud crack and the dragon screamed as the whole tower started to shake violently. Gwen felt the air being squeezed out of her as the masonry shifted pressing harder down upon her. She wiggled her arm freeing one of her stalrim daggers and jammed it into the mortar between the stones preventing the stone above her from shifting and crushing her when she exhaled.

As the dust settled, she could hear the others moving around. “Gwen! You all right?” Bull’s voice.

“Yes, but I’m stuck.”

She felt a tap on her foot. “Can you crawl out feet first?”

“No. An edge of my armour is jammed against some stones and I can’t free it. I can’t go forward either.” She heard steps around her and the sounds of rocks being moved.

“Can you shout your way out?”

“Um, maybe,” she hesitated. “Is there anything going to fall on me if I shout this slab of stone away from me?”

Feet moved around her again. “No, there’s nothing above.”

“Okay. Jam your axe down here by my legs Bull, and then make sure the slab tips and doesn’t just slide when I shout it.”

“Yeah, got it.”

Gwen looked around as she brushed herself off when she finally managed to get free of the debris. “What in Oblivion happened? Where is everyone?” She whipped her head around to Bull, alarmed, “where’s Max?”

“They fell. Clarel made one last ditch attack on the dragon and caused the balcony to collapse. They fell with it.”

Her eyes grew huge, “they’re dead? Has anyone told the Commander?”

Bull shook his head, “no, Max opened a rift. I think they’re in the Fade.”

She glanced over to the other person remaining on the tower with her and Bull where he was standing looking over the edge rocking on his toes. “Fenris!” She rushed over to him. “It won’t do them any good if you throw yourself off the tower. They’re not down there!” She tugged on his arm to pull him back from the edge and his lyrium tattooes blazed in response. She knew he was in shock and very likely tipping over into grief, but she needed him to focus, and the best way to do that was to piss him off. “Come on Fenris!” she taunted, “are you all flash and no thunder? If Hawke and the others are going to get back to us, we need to keep the door open – in the courtyard." She tugged hard on his arm again and released the breath she didn’t realise she was holding as he turned with her.

They fought for hours as the rift pulsed in irregular intervals ejecting waves of demons. The remaining Wardens fought side by side with the Inquisition forces, until after long last Max and his party emerged from the rift snapping it shut behind them. Max was livid and commanded that the Wardens make reparations for their catastrophic mistake by continuing to fight against the demons and allies of Corypheus, and honor Warden Stroud’s ultimate sacrifice with their own efforts.

It was finally over.

* * *

Gwen strolled over to the fire combing out her damp hair. It had taken several applications of soap and water to finally get all the demon gore, blood, sweat, and stone dust out of her hair. She sported a new scar on her face that took a nick out of her left eyebrow, and she had heavily bruised ribs and a few other minor scrapes and scratches that the healers said would be better in no time. Varric was providing some comic relief to try to cheer everyone up from the oppressive day they had had.

Varric chuckles, “and then she starts screaming, blasting it with these spears of ice, and calling it names; skeever-breath, horker-face… What was the last one, Rosy?”

“Milk-drinker; that’s a terrible insult I’ll have you know. I lost my favourite sword because of that demon,” she said with a pout, as she sat down between Rylen’s knees leaning back against him, and rested her arms along his legs.

“You’re talented at smithing, maybe you can make a new one?” Blackwall commented as he looked up from cleaning his sword. “Many famous Warden blades were made from Silverite. It seems to work well on darkspawn. Or Bloodstone, perhaps?”

“Nah. Bloodstone's great at holding an edge, but that sharpness leaves it brittle,” Bull replied. “Gwen might be more of a finess fighter than me, but it still wouldn’t work for her.” He sat thoughtfully for a moment, “how about Dawnstone.”

“Dawnstone?” Blackwall scoffed, “that's even more brittle than Bloodstone.”

“Yes... Really damn pretty, though.” Gwen laughed at Bull’s reasoning.

“It's pink,” Blackwall argued.

Bull all but growled, “it's _pretty_.”

“Oh good, can I have some silk ribbons and flowers to decorate it, so dragons can fawn all over the girl with the pretty pink sword?” Gwen asked tipping her head and batting her eyelashes with a coy little smile.

Varric choked on his drink, “Rosy, if anyone falls for the sweet little girl act with you – pink sword or no – they deserve to get run through by you.”

She tipped her head up and gave Rylen a quick smile and peck on the lips before she turned the innocent look back on Varric and fluttered her lashes again, “aw Varric. You say the _sweetest_ things.”

“Speaking of dragons; what did that dragon say to you?” Bull asked. “It _did_ sound like your dragon words.”

“Yeah, um…” she said closing her eyes to recall the words, “’Hi los ni aan dov. Vobalaan wah viik dovah! Hi fen funt ulse!’ That was quite insulting actually.”

“Yeah… Translation?”

She flashed him a smirk, “he said that I’m not a dragon. That I was unworthy to defeat him. That I would always fail.”

Varric frowned, “'always fail' - that’s an odd choice of words. You haven’t fought that dragon before, but it would imply that you _had_ at some point?”

“Dovah language isn’t literal. It’s more figurative… conceptual…” she trailed off frowning as she considered the dragon’s words. Suddenly she sat up stiffly, and her jaw dropped.

“Rosy?”

“Love, what is it?” Rylen asked leaning to the side to look at her.

She started slowly, “Corypheus’ dragon. It’s not an archdemon. It’s Alduin reborn.”

“But you defeated Alduin. He was dead.”

She gave the dwarf a wry look reminding him of a similar conversation he and Hawke had with Max regarding Corypheus. “Yes, twice in fact. Once at the Throat of the World – dead, but his soul escaped to Sovngarde. I followed him to Sovngarde where I killed him again. But I never absorbed his soul then either. It disappeared into the Aetherius, the Plains of Oblivion which from my discussion with Solas,” she glanced at the elf in question, “maybe connected or even the same as the Fade. What if Corypheus summoned a spirit to empower and control his dragon, and Alduin answered in a bid to retake physical form? My destiny is tied to the World Eater’s; he retakes form here and I was pulled through when Max reopened that rift.”

They all looked shaken by the revelation. “That’s really – ” Max started.

“Messed up,” Gwen finished. “But I am not a dragon, so I can never defeat him.”

“But you’re Dragonborn. You have dragon blood, I can smell it,” Bull said vehemently.

“I have the blood and the soul of a dragon, but physically? I’m a Breton, not a dragon. Until that changes, I can’t defeat Alduin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Adamant was harder to write than I expected. Mostly because I was completely stuck with the battering ram scene! Of all the silly things to get hung up on - I wrote and rewrote it because it wasn't believable, lol. Yeah, I'm writing a fantasy story about people with magical gifts and talents, and I'm worried that someone standing on a moving piece of wood while screaming out war cries is far fetched... *giggle snort* Moving on!
> 
> So how's that for a revelation? Alduin reborn - yeah, it was a shocker for me too :)


	36. Foothold in Sand

Gwen watched Max get up and wander away from the fire. He stopped just outside of the firelight and stood looking over the remains of Adamant, after a moment he wrapped his arms around himself and dropped his head. She got up with a pat on Rylen’s knee reassuring him that she was fine, and quietly made her way over to Max. “Max,” she asked softly lightly touching her fingers to his arm, “are you well?”

He scrubbed at his face with one hand and took a ragged breath, “I’m a mistake,” he replied roughly without looking at her. She put her arm around his waist and rested her head against his arm. “When we fell into the Fade… I regained my memories. What happened at the Conclave, I was wandering around the temple because I was bored, I stumbled upon Corypheus’ ritual by accident. The explosion, this – _thing –_ on my hand, all a mistake. All those deaths and all the ones since, because of me.” He raised his head and looked across to another fire where Gwen could see Fenris and Hawke leaning close, heads together. “Warden Stroud is dead because of me. The Nightmare demon that controlled the part of the Fade we were in, who would have controlled Corypheus’ demon army, it was blocking our escape. Hawke and Stroud were arguing as to who should stay to distract the demon so the rest of us could escape. And I… I chose Stroud. I shouldn’t be making these decisions. I’m not some divinely foretold hero…” he trailed off.

“Max…” She stepped around in front of him when he didn’t respond and rubbed her hands on his arms, “Max, those deaths aren’t on your hands, they’re on Corypheus’. Even Stroud’s. If you hadn’t been in the temple and stumbled upon his ritual, what then? He may have completed it and torn open the Veil in which case _everyone_ would be dead. It doesn’t matter whether our destinies were written in ancient prophesy at the start of the world or whether we arrive where we are by chance; all that matters is that we try to do the best we can with what we have available to us.”

Max lifted his head and looked at her in awe, his eyes glassy with unshed tears; he unfolded his arms and pulled her into a hug crushing her against his chest. “Thank you,” he whispered against her hair.

“You’re welcome. You know that I’m here for you whenever you want to talk, just like… just like at the beginning. Now go get some rest – we all need it and you’ll set a good example for the others.”

“Yes, my lady,” he said giving her another quick squeeze before letting her go. “Go see your husband.”

Gwen slipped into the tent she shared with Rylen. “Everything all right, lass?” he asked as she ducked through the tent flaps.

“Yes. Just having a quick word with Max.” She started pulling on the ties of her clothing, her fingers fumbling on the laces, “by the Nine, I’m exhausted.”

“I’m not surprised,” Rylen said brushing her hands out of the way to continue undoing her laces himself. “From the reports I was getting while coordinating the soldiers, you didn’t stop swinging your swords the entire time from when you went through the gates until the Inquisitor closed the rift. That was over eighteen hours.”

“Lost one of my swords to that stupid dremora,” she grumbled absently.

He pulled her shirt over head and replaced it with her preferred sleepwear, one of his shirts, and made her sit down after sliding her breeches down to her thighs. “Come on, boots off and then breeches.” She dropped one of her feet into his leg as he crouched down to unlace the boot. “I saw you go flying across the ramparts, over that broken gap, and I thought my heart was going to stop. Then when I heard the dragon shake that tower and the rubble fell, it did stop until you showed up at the top of the stairs again.” He tugged the second boot off and looked up at her, Gwen’s head had rolled forward and she was swaying as she sat on the edge of the bed. He smiled fondly at her, “all right lass. Into bed.” He tipped her under the covers, undressed himself, and slid into the bed behind and wrapping his arms around her pulling her back against his chest. Gwen mumbled something, rolled over, and tucked her hands against his chest and her head under his chin. He smiled as she burrowed into him and fell asleep himself.

* * *

Max sat down on the log next to the dying embers of the previous night’s fire with the others cradling his bowl of porridge. “So, your Inquisitorialness – what’s next?” Hawke chuckled at Varric’s fondness for nicknaming everyone as he shovelled his own porridge in his mouth.

“Leliana’s scouts have reported that the Venatori are basing their operations out of Griffon Wing Keep to the west. A portion of the army will be stationed there under Rylen’s command.” Max hesitated as his eyes slid to Gwen then continued issuing orders. “There are several ruins in the area that have noted Venatori interest; we will be checking those out, as well, one of Gwen’s dragonwalls was indicated to be in the area; Dorian, Bull, Varric, Cole, Cassandra, Sera, and Gwen will be accompanying me to investigate those. Solas will remain here to monitor the closed rift and ensure that it remains so. Blackwall will assist the Commander getting the remaining Wardens sorted out. Hawke and Fenris will be heading to Weisshaupt to inform the Wardens what has happened here. And Vivienne will be liaising with some Orlesian nobles on our Ambassador’s behalf. We’re moving out in two hours.” Max got back up and headed for his tent to gather his things leaving everyone else at the campfire.

Dorian looked at Gwen seated next to him. “Are you all right, love? You’re awfully quiet.”

She gave him a weak smile and squeezed his hand, “I’m fine. If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to pack my stuff.” She ducked into the tent, blinking her eyes rapidly against the rising tears, she stuffed clothing, toiletries, other essentials into a pack.

“I take it you’ve heard lass?” Rylen said entering the tent behind her. She turned to him as the tears finally let go. “Come here, mo ghràdh,” he said pulling her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. He kissed her on the temple, “it won’t be forever.”

“I know. It’s just…” she pulled back with a sigh. “You’re right. And we’ll be in the Western Approach for a few weeks so I’ll sure we’ll be based out of Griffon Wing for a while. We’ll just have to find ourselves a quiet corner in the keep.”

“Mmm, where no one can find us. I like your thinking lass,” he said letting his voice drop to a deeper, more suggestive tone, relishing the slight tremor he felt run through her frame. He gave the laces on her pants a sharp tug and slipped a hand inside to stroke her as soon as he had them loose enough. “How long before you leave? Maker, you’re already wet for me.” He wrapped his other hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a desperate kiss.

“Little over an hour,” she panted against his lips when they broke apart, her fingers had found their way past his laces so she could stroke him. “I still have to pack Shadow…” she faltered, closer her eyes as a wave of arousal washed over her.

“We’ll be quick.” She nodded quickly. “I want ye so badly I don’t know how long I’ll last,” he spun her around and yanked her pants and smalls down around her knees. He pressed her forward to bend over a travel chest kicking her feet apart. “Can ye be quiet?” he asked as he rubbed his manhood across her wet folds. She whimpered as she shook her head. “Good.” Gwen cried out as he buried himself in her with a single thrust. Neither cared about what noises they made as they got lost in each other, in the frenzied pace that Rylen set that carried them both tumbling over the edge together. He collapsed forward over her back with a groan, savouring the final aftershocks and memorizing the feel of her before withdrawing from the grasp of her body.

She pulled her pants up shaking legs as he tucked himself back into his own. Gentle hands grasped her shoulders and turned her around to pull her into a hug. “Be safe, lass. I’ll see you when I bring the army to Griffon Wing Keep.”

“You be safe too,” she ran her fingers down the tattoo along his nose and down his chin. Rylen caught her hand and kissed her fingertips. They broke apart, Gwen stuffed the last few items into her pack while Rylen tied up half of their bedroll for her and tucked it under his arm. Once everything was secured to Shadowmere’s saddle she turned and threaded her fingers through the hair at the nape of Rylen’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “I love you, dii su'um,” she whispered against his lips.

“I love you too.” Rylen gave her a leg up onto Shadowmere. Their fingers slipped apart as she nudged the spirit horse forward and joined the others waiting at the edge of the camp.

“Hey Seeker, this will interest you,” Varric piped up as they rode along; the tents around Adamant disappearing behind the undulating hills of sand. “I have an idea for a new romance serial. I’m thinking I’ll call it ‘The Dragon and the Knight’. It’ll be much more interesting that that ‘Sword and Shield” drivel.”

“Varric…” Cassandra warned him.

“Well I’m not giving you details,” Gwen called back.

“Oh, there’s no need for that. It’s easy enough to extrapolate from the noise.” Gwen blushed, and then giggled as she heard the unmistakable sound of the Seeker’s hand contacting the back of the dwarf’s head. She had to give him credit though, he had managed to cheer her up.

Scout Harding greeted them when they finally arrived at the first camp. “Welcome to the Western Approach. Between the sand storms, bandits, Venatori, and vicious wildlife, we haven’t made it very far out here. One of my men got too close to a poisonous hotspring and gave me a slightly… delirious report about a high dragon flying around. In short this might be one of the worst places in the world. Try not to die; I would hate to send that report back to Skyhold.” Everyone chuckled, and Harding continued, “we intercepted a Venatori messenger and we – persuaded – him to give up the orders he was carrying. They confirmed that the Venatori have secured their base of operations from Griffon Wing keep under the command of Prelate Macrinus.”

“Thank you, Harding. It’s always a pleasure,” Max replied with a little flirt. “We’ll take a rest and head out again before dusk.”

“One more thing, there is a professor from the University of Orlais by the name of Frederic. He’s a professor of Draconology. We’re not entirely sure if he’s just here for the High Dragon or is looking for something else but he’s positively giddy to meet you, and the Dragonborn,” she nodded in Gwen’s direction.

“He’s here, alone and hasn’t been bothered with all the Venatori around?” Max asked.

“That sounds rather odd,” Varric commented.

Harding nodded. “That’s what we thought too. We didn’t get the impression that he was working for them, so it could be that whatever he is researching is of interest to Corypheus’ allies as well and they’re letting him work. It might be a good idea to help him and gain the knowledge ourselves.”

“Yes, he may also have some information that would help us locate the dragonwall,” Gwen added.

“All right, so Griffon Wing keep first, then we’ll go find the professor,” Max summarized and sent everyone off to rest.

Gwen threw herself down on the bedroll in the tent she was sharing with Sera and Cassandra. It was too warm to sleep under covers during the daylight hours, so she just lay on top of the blankets and stared at the canvas overhead trying to clear her mind to get some sleep if possible.

Cassandra entered the tent quietly, “I’m sorry that you haven’t had a chance to properly celebrate your marriage.”

Gwen rolled her head to look at the stern woman, “it’s all right. We both understand that duty needs to come first, we’ll grab whatever time we can until the war is over.”

“Have you thought about what you want to do afterwards?”

“Rylen wants to go home to Starkhaven to introduce me to his family. After, we’re considering helping the Commander with his templar clinic.”

Cassandra studied her for a moment, “Rylen intends to leave the Order; he means to stop taking lyrium like Cullen has?”

“Yes. He’s already spoken at length with Cullen about it.”

“Cullen has mentioned that you have helped him with his symptoms. I – thank you for what you have done for him and for the Inquisition as a result. I’m sure you would both be very helpful with his endeavour.”

“Thank you, Cassandra.”

Sera burst into the tent with a puff of dust and sand as she dumped her pack unceremoniously on the bedroll between the two women. “Wot I miss? Share any juicy details about your last tryst.”

Cassandra made a disgusted noise. “Lie down and be quiet, Sera.”

When they headed back out at dusk, the winds had dropped making the desert still and quiet except for the sounds of nocturnal animals, prey and predator, moving about among the dunes. The sun set and the night bleaching the normally red-coloured sand to dark blues and purples, highlighted in white by the moonlight. The sky was clear which was both good and bad for travelling; good in that the light of the two moons allowed them to see where they were going without giving away their presence with torches, but it also meant that without cloud cover the temperatures dropped significantly and they all resorted to wrapping themselves in extra layers as they rode.

As they rode, Gwen watched for predators that might think the horses would make a good meal. “ _Kaan Drem Ov,”_ she called out at a small pack of hyenas. The animals suddenly turned away and disappeared back over the dune they had come from.

“What did you just do?” Max asked.

“Oh, it’s a shout that calls upon the blessing of Kyne to calm animals,” she looked at him. “Unless you wanted to fight them?”

“No, carry on. I’d rather avoid fighting animals in the dark right now and just concentrate on getting to the keep.”

“Are we planning on assaulting this fortress during the day or the night, Boss?” Bull asked pulling his mount alongside of Max’s horse.

“I think, day. We don’t have a layout on the keep so it would be better not to go running around in the dark. Harding gave me a rough map, as soon as we clear this canyon we’re headed straight west to a potential camp site to rest for the day. The keep is only a few hours ride from that point.”

* * *

After establishing their new camp and resting for the day, the group headed north under cover of night once more toward their next target. Gwen lay on the rocky outcropped and observed the keep, the torches within flickered on the yellow stone walls and cast an orange gleam on the metal spikes and spires that bristles from the walls of the fortress. “How many?” Max queried as he lay beside her on the stone.

“I’m too far away for that shout to work, I’d need to get closer.  I could probably sneak in closer along the ridge there,” she pointed towards the edge of the crevasse. “I haven’t seen any patrols on the outer perimeter of the keep so it should be safe enough.”

“Cole can go with you, just in case.” Gwen nodded as she slid off the rock and headed across the dark sand.

She couldn’t see the spirit boy, but she knew that he’d appear as needed. The keep loomed above her as she skirted the perimeter staying in the shadows of the dunes. She found no sallyports or other entrances except for the main gate when a pair of Venatori at the back of the fortress caught her eye. She hesitated, watching the pair for a few moments wondering if they were there to guard a weakness. “Yes,” Cole said softly popping into view beside her. “There is another entrance.”

“It must be close then. Let’s eliminate them and find it.” Cole vanished, and she crept closer before casting her invisibility spell. The spellbinder, a swordsman, and a second sleeping in the tent were quickly eliminated before they could make a sound or alert the keep. Gwen and Cole crept up the slope above the little camp, finding a small foot trail only wide enough to travel single file that let to a small cave protected by a magical barrier. The barrier shimmered in the dark obscuring what lay beyond it. She called a fire spell to both hands and pressed it against the barrier. The flames hissed and spat but while the barrier snapped in response, it didn’t seem to weaken. She tried a frost spell, but the barrier resisted. “I think I’m going to have to get Dorian to take a crack at this.”

“I’ll wait here.”

“Alright.” She glanced at the rock above her, “ _Laas Yah Nir.”_ Two dozen little auras appeared above her in the keep.

“The darkspawn are below us. A long way, but still singing.” Gwen flicked a glance over at the spirit boy and nodded. Darkspawn really disturbed her ever since her dream in the Deep Roads. She slipped away into the dark again and hurried across the sand to the others.

“There are about two dozen Venatori inside,” she said. Max jumped, and she giggled. “There are two entrances; the main gate on the northeast side guarded by several of the Venatori, and Cole and I have found another way that could let us in and get that gate open or at least flank the Venatori within if you were to breach it. There’s a hidden path on the south side that is protected by a magical barrier so it’s definitely of interest.” She turned to Dorian, “my magic won’t break the barrier. Maybe because it’s a different source of power, but I need your help to break it.”

“Alright. Dorian go with Gwen and try to bring that barrier down. The rest of us will go to the gate and take out the guards. If you can’t get to the gate directly, send a fireball over the wall.”

She led Dorian around the dunes until they were in line with the hidden entrance but still out of sight of the walls. He wasn’t particularly loud but she heard every step, broken twig, and kicked stone as he followed her. She didn’t dare take him closer without risking alerting the lookouts on the keep. “Do you know how to do that Fadestep-py spell like Solas?”

“Sadly, I do not. Am I going too slowly for you, Dragonborn?” he sassed at her.

She looked at him and narrowed her eyes, speculating. “Give me your hand,” she said holding her right hand across her body to him. He didn’t hesitate and grasped her hand. Gwen flashed him a grin and wrapped her left arm around his waist, “don’t vomit on me.”

“What?” Dorian exclaimed, alarmed, as he looked at her.

“ _Wuld Nah Kest!_ ”

They lurched to a stop before the barrier; Gwen steadied Dorian on his feet as he looked decidedly pale. “Do _not_ do that ever again,” he gasped.

“I’m sorry,” she smirked shamelessly.

He glared at her in mock anger, then turned and looked at the barrier running his hand before it. “This won’t be a problem.” With a gesture and muttering of words lightning crackled and arched from his hands, the barrier flashed and shimmered, then with a final shudder disappeared.

Gwen popped up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, “thank you Dorian.” She and Cole led Dorian down the tunnel and found themselves in a natural cistern below the keep. Gwen wrinkled her nose at the foul smell that greeted them. “They’ve contaminated their own well with corpses. Idiots.” She waded into the water to a rope that dangled down from the top, she gave it a light pull but it didn’t shift. She gave it a harder pull and still it held still. “You coming this way?”

Dorian wrinkled his own nose as he stepped into the edge water getting the toes of his boots wet. “Very well. I’ll never hear it from the qunari if I let you go in by yourself.” Gwen laughed quietly then started to climb the rope. She got to the top of the well and peaked over the top, rolling over the edge when she could see that there was no one around. She wiggled the rope to let him know to come up and then she studied the inside of the keep as she heard Dorian mutter and grumble as he climbed up the rope. She leaned over and grabbed his hand to help him over the edge.

“Ever kick a wasp nest and run away, Dorian?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“No… What are you going to do?”

Gwen turned to Cole who had appeared behind her, “get to the gate and open it if you can.” He nodded and vanished. “You and I,” she said to Dorian, “are going to kick the wasp nest. Come on.” She tugged at his hand and drew him up an unmanned staircase that led to a wall overlooking the courtyard. “Lightning. I’ll watch your back as well. Ready?” He nodded. “ _Strun Bah Qo!”_ she shouted. Clouds in the dawning sky rolled overhead and a deafening clap of thunder shook the keep drawing alarmed shouts from the cultist, before multiple forks of lightening came streaking down from the sky striking and arcing through the men and tents scattered around the area. She drew her bow and rapidly fired into the swarm of Venatori as Dorian cast spells and slung lightning bolts with his staff. She saw a flicker at the gate and knew that Cole was dispatching guards there on the inside before opening the gate for the others. She moved to the top of the stairs to intercept cultists that had noticed their presence. “ _Fus Ro Dah_!” she shouted then giggled, sending the soldiers tumbling like rag dolls down the stairs. She fired arrow after arrow into the crowd choking the path to their location. Max and the others hadn’t entered the keep yet so she risked using the Storm Call shout again sending another crackling wave of lightning through the cultists below them.

Beside her, Dorian had stopped swinging his staff. Gwen looked around and while stray bolts of lightning arced around the keep with dying fizzles, it was quiet with no other motion or noise. She walked over to one of the crenellations that gave her a view of the gate, threw her legs over the edge, and sat down to wait for the others. “You could have cleared this fortress entirely on your own, couldn’t you?” Dorian commented as he stood beside her.

She shrugged, “probably. It’s actually strange for me to have others with me. I usually only have one companion with me and infiltrating and clearing a fortress, bandit hideout, or something like this was a pretty normal job.”

He sat down on the wall beside her as the others started picking their way through the smoldering corpses. She kicked her heels against the stone as they waited. “I forget sometimes, the power that you wield.”

She became still and bowed her head down, afraid to look at him. “Does it scare you?”

Dorian didn’t answer straight away as he studied her, suddenly seeing her vulnerability. “No, it doesn’t,” he said firmly in a voice that made her look at him. “But sometimes we forget and it’s a surprise; sometimes we see this sweet woman who’s madly in love with her templar, and other times it’s the blood-drenched Dragonborn shouting down the sky, and its awe inspiring and terrifying, and we forget that you’re the same person.”

“Hey!” Bull bellowed from the lower courtyard. “You could have let us have some fun and left some of those ‘Vint bastards for us to kill.”

“Sorry Bull,” Gwen called to him. “Dorian was too impatient to wait so he started without you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Bull growled back sending Gwen into a fit of laughter. Dorian scowled at them both.

“Sorry Dorian,” Gwen apologized. She held her hand out to him. “Come on, let’s go see if your countrymen brought any good wine with them.”

“Don’t forget to look for food!” Max called after them. “We’ll be here for a few days until the army arrives with provisions and we can’t be drunk off our asses all of the time.”

The army arrived two days later. The clouds of dust hung in the air from the column of soldiers making their way across the desert sands. As soon as the soldiers had been positively identified as being Inquisition forces and not Venatori reinforcements or bandits, Max ordered the rest of the group to ready themselves to head out immediately. They had already cleared the keep of the dead soldiers, dumping the bodies over the side into the incredibly deep Abyssal Rift crevasse rather than light pyres and potentially alert the enemy. The soldiers would have plenty of work getting the keep properly inhabitable for a standing garrison, one that was a quarter of the entire army to take control and hold the Western Approach from Corypheus’ forces.

“Knight-Captain Rylen!” Max called out. “Griffon Wing Keep is under your command. We are heading south to seek the Professor and find out what Prelate Macrinus and his cohorts are looking for out here. We’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Very good Inquisitor. Good hunting,” Rylen responded flicking his gaze momentarily over Max’s shoulder.

Max turned away and tipped his head at Rylen when he caught Gwen’s eye, giving her a grin. “Go on. I won’t make you leave without having a chance to exchange a few words.”

Gwen hurred over to Rylen and hooked her fingers over his gorget giving it, and by extension, him a tug down. “Stupid armour, in the way,” she muttered.

Rylen snorted a laugh, “is there something you wanted, lass?” She gave him a look. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers waiting for her to soften against him which she did in a heartbeat. “I’ll see you in a few weeks, lass. I should have found us some _suitable_ quarters by then.”

“Look on the west side of the keep. And make sure there’s a bath,” she replied. “Be safe.”

“Yer the one that will be crawling around in the sand with the beasties. I, on the otherhand, will be sitting here in the lap of luxury waiting for my fierce woman to return to my arms.”

It was Gwen’s turn to snort back a laugh. “Lap of luxury? Good luck finding that.”

A loud whistle echoed, bouncing off the stone walls. “Better go lass. Wouldn’t want to keep the Inquisitor waiting.”

She gave him another quick kiss, then sprinted across the courtyard to vault on Shadowmere immediately picking up a brisk trot to catch up with the others who had already left through the gates of the keep. She glanced back once and saw Rylen standing on the steps watching her leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to you all for the kudos, bookmarks, and comments. How I love the comments! :)  
> Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out - I kept getting distracted by what's coming next. *author bounces on her toes* It's going to be good!  
> If you ever want to chat, you can find me over on [Tumblr](https://inquisition-dragonborn.tumblr.com/)


	37. The Third Word

Meeting the Professor was like meeting Farengar all over again; he was aloof and arrogant when asked about what he was doing but turned into a quiver mass of delighted enthusiasm when he discovered who was addressing him. He fawned over Max and asked countless questions while the others, including Gwen, hung back. She leaned against some crates flipping through a book while Max and Frederic talked. “But what of the Dragonborn, Inquisitor? Surely, they have come with you to the Western Approach,” Frederic implored Max, reaching over to pluck the book from Gwen’s hands and dropping it back in the crate. “I did tell the scout to relay the importance of their presence here.”

“Professor, please allow me to introduce you to the Dragonborn,” Max turned and indicated towards Gwen. “Gwen, meet the Frederic, Professor of Draconology from the University of Orlais.”

“But… but… _she_ is so small!” Frederic sputtered staring at her. “She can not possibly be the Dragonborn. She is so… ordinary.”

Gwen snorted, “so I have heard. And yet, everyday when I wake up, I am as you see before you.” She tipped her head back and shouted, “ _Yol_!” Frederic startled as the plume of fire rose into the air.

“Maker, it’s true!” Suddenly, Gwen understood how Odahviing felt when she had him contained in Dragonsreach and Farengar persisted in poking and scraping at him. Frederic circled around her, plucked at her hair, poked at her arms, and was about to grasp her face when Bull stepped forward with a growl startling the Orlesian. “Oh! Excusez-moi! What was that word you said – yol – when you breathed fire. What does it mean?”

“Fire.”

“Oh,” Frederic looked nonplussed. “What language?”

“Dovahzul. Dragon speech.”

“Oh. Oh! Is there a written language?” He rushed around to a crate and pulled out several scrolls until he found what he was looking for before she could even answer him. “See I found a stone with odd markings. I thought they were just scratches but perhaps they are the dragon language.”

Gwen looked at the stone rubbing he had made tracing her fingers lightly across the letters. It was definitely the draconic alphabet. “Where did you find this stone?”

“To the northeast of here. There is a temple built into the cliff face at the back of a valley. I couldn’t get in and those Tevinter cultists showed up in force soon after I left to get supplies to go back.”

“We will go and check out that temple if the Venatori are so interested in what might be there,” Max replied.

“Oh, could you translate some other documents for me?” Frederic asked excitedly.

“Uh, I don’t really have time to transcribe the dovahzul letters to common and then translate…”

“Rosy, what if you wrote out the alphabet for the Professor? He can transcribe it for you while we go investigate the temple,” Varric suggested.

“Yes, yes. That would work,” Frederic offered excitedly. The man pulled out a quill and parchment from some other crates and herded her towards a crude table and seat under one of the awnings.

Gwen rolled her eyes and sat down. “This will take about an hour Max while I write out the letters and their equivalents.”

“All right. Varric why don’t you stay here and keep an eye on things while Gwen does her thing, and we’ll make a circuit to look for bandits and Frederic’s missing assistants.”

Gwen started writing out the symbols and explained, “the Dovahzul alphabet has thirty-four runes instead of the twenty-six in the Common alphabet. There is no letter ‘C’, but instead an ‘S’ or ‘K’ would be used instead depending on the word sound.” Frederic hovered over her shoulder as she wrote out the letters. “Some runes correspond to a combination of letters within the Common alphabet. These are usually combinations of vowels that have a long or short sound associated with them.” Varric moved around the table so he could read over her other shoulder. “The language is also very metaphorical. For example, ‘a quick red fox jumps over the lazy dog’ would translate roughly to _vosaraan sahqo tafiir wahl ko muhlaan dok_ which is ‘haste red thief raise over unmoving dog’. There is no word for a fox but they are recognizable as quick red thieves.”

“That’s… rather complex,” Varric commented.

“It is. It makes translations challenging as you must figure out whether you are dealing with a metaphor or a literal meaning from the context. For example, both _ko_ and _oblaan_ translate to ‘over’, but _ko_ means to pass over something and _oblaan_ means that something is over – has ended.” She continued to write down the runes and their equivalent Common letters. “Esbern was much better at translations,” she muttered.

“Esbern?”

Gwen looked up at Varric. “What? Oh sorry – talking to myself. Esbern was this paranoid old archivist, one of the last living members of the Blades.” Varric’s brows rose. “ _Another_ ancient order of warriors sworn to serve the Dragonborn,” she frowned and added, “not that they abided by that oath.”

Varric chuckled, “you really do collect followers like puppies.” She rolled her eyes at him and laughed.

They were interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the group. Frederic’s assistants had been killed by bandits running under the name of White Claw Raiders, and it appeared that they were working for a Venatori by the name of Crassius Servis. The professor thanked them profusely for returning his supplies and promised to get the transcriptions done by the time they returned from the temple he had told them about. Gwen felt relieved to get back in the saddle and ride away from the effusive man.

“I told you, Rosy – puppies.”

She laughed, “I think Max can have this one, Varric.”

“What’s this about puppies and me getting one?” Max asked.

“Rosy’s just collected another doting fan.”

They followed the directions Frederic gave to the temple he had found and was unable to return to due to the Venatori presence. They were very much present with several warriors, rogues, and spellbinders waiting within the forecourt of the temple. The Venatori shifted in preparation as they noticed the group’s arrival. “Well, I guess we’re not going to surprise them…” Max said pulling his sword and shield. The group quickly cut down the Venatori and proceeded through the gate dispatching the paltry resistance they found there.

When they entered the temple proper, they were met with some serious weirdness. Demons and Venatori stood frozen around an open rift in whatever position they were in when time stopped. There was a strange droning buzzing noise, like bees caught in one of Sera’s bottles, that got louder as they approached the rift in the middle of the room. Varric walked underneath of one swordsman that was frozen mid-leap off a balustrade at a terror demon. “Oh good. Someone is playing with time magic again,” Dorian muttered shaking his head.

“Can you close the rift, Inquisitor?” Cassandra asked.

Max walked to the rift and held his hand up to it. After a moment, he shook his hand and tried again to no avail. “No, whatever has stopped time here is also blocking my ability to interact with the rift.”

“So we have to get everything moving again first. Great, more demon crap,” Bull grumbled.

* * *

Once they explored the entire temple, found an interesting ancient Tevinter book on dragons for the professor, and found a powerful staff, much to Dorian’s delight, that was responsible for holding the entire temple in stasis.  Once the staff was removed from the altar it was stuck in, they managed to close the rift in the main hall of the temple. Gwen froze and listened, with the rift closed and all the frozen demons and Venatori killed, she could faintly hear the distinctive chanting of a word wall. Slowly turning, she pinpointed the direction the chanting was loudest. “What is it?” Max asked stepping beside her.

“The dragonwall. It’s here; I can hear it.”

“We’ve been all through the temple and haven’t seen anything…”

Gwen nodded, “I know, but it’s definitely here. It must be below us.” She fixed her mind on the sound and cast a clairvoyance spell. She followed the glowing spell out of the main chamber and back into the Hall of Silence. She cast the spell again and the blue globe poured across the room and slid under a pile of rocks in the opposite direction from the room where they found Frederic’s manuscript.

“Does that happen often?” Dorian asked, puzzled that the spell would lead them to a deadend.

She snorted, “more often than I would like. There’s probably a door or a passageway behind that rubble.” She started pulling broken pieces of stone and timbers from the pile.

Bull and Max started pulling away bigger chunks of rubble to help her. “Don’t you have a spell or something to do this more easily?” Max asked.

She blushed, “no, I was never very good at the telekenisis spell. I can steal a pouch of gold or gems from a few feet away but bigger objects or more distance burns through my magicka faster than I can accomplish anything.”

“Well, at least you have the important usage down-pat,” Varric smirked. Cassandra made a disgusted noise and pulled away some pieces of timber from the pile.

Clearing the rubble did reveal another doorway; however, unlike the room on the other side of the temple, there was a long hallway that ran in a downward slope underground. At first the hallway was lined with properly laid stone but after a stone door they managed to shove open wide enough for them to squeeze through, the hall became a tunnel roughly hewn out of the bedrock beneath the shifting sands. “Anyone else find this really creepy?” Varric asked. Gwen cast and recast a candlelight spell that hovered above their heads as they moved down the tunnel. She was about to recast the spell for a third time when she noticed a glimmer of light ahead of them.

The tunnel mouth widened out gradually as it emerged into a huge cavernous space. It was hard to tell if it was naturally occurring or was made, but it was clearly very old. Huge pillars soared from floor to ceiling where stalagmites and stalactites had met over time. The walls and pillars glittered in the gloom from the pale light of glowing mushrooms reflecting off minerals and water. With the others right behind her, Gwen stepped into the cavern. Torches distributed around the huge space suddenly burst into life making them shield their eyes from the bright points of light. “I take it back… _That_ is creepy,” Varric muttered bring Bianca around from her resting place on his back. The dragonwall stood on the far side of the room and before her was the all too familiar black altar littered with skeletal remains, crumbling parchments, and other items. She took a few more steps into the room and she felt the hair on her arms rise; she carefully drew a sword and dagger.

“Gwen, what – ” Max started to ask. She felt the shiver across her skin as Dorian dropped a barrier over everyone.

“Shhhh, stay back.” She glanced around and spotted a long, low dark shape in the shadows at the back of the room. She stepped lightly, soundlessly, as she approached what she knew to be a sarcophagus. A loud crack echoed through the room that was answered by the sound of weapons being drawn as the sarcophagus lid slid and tumbled to the floor. Instantly, Gwen sprinted for the sarcophagus as the Dragon Priest rose into the air with a blood-curdling scream. She swung her sword at the dragon priest before her… and missed. She blinked, startled, and swung at the priest again. And missed again. The dragon priest cast a spell and a storm atronach appeared. The running steps behind her turned to face the new opponent. “No, get behind cover! Attack that from a distance!” She kept her focus on the dragon priest that sprayed a wall of fire along the ground with the staff it held. Gwen dodged the fire and shouted at the priest missing it again with her ice form shout. _What in Oblivion is going on,_ she thought to herself. She never missed like this. She swung at the priest and then abruptly changed direction and managed to hit her target as the priest didn’t have room to maneuver into escaping.

Behind her arrows and bolts hit the atronach. She heard the rumble and snap of the storm atronach as it drifted close to her. She screamed as an electical bolt from the atronach lashed across her back and she leapt away from it and had to leap away from a new wall of fire cast by the dragon priest. Another bolt from Varric’s crossbow thudded into the atronach and it crumbled to the ground. The priest screamed in rage and passed over Gwen’s head into the open space as she missed it again. “Now, hit the priest with all you have! _Mid Vur Shaan_!” she shouted causing everyone but the priest to move faster with their attacks. With the concentrated attacks, the priest finally went down into a pile of glowing ash. Gwen leaned against the broken sarcophagus to catch her breath.

“Are those things usually that hard to hit?” Max asked, panting beside her as well.

“No. They aren’t. That was very strange,” she replied hoisting herself back onto her feet and walking to the pile of ash on the floor.

“What were those?” Bull asked.

“Well the floating boulders was a storm atronach; an elemental familiar. The other, that was a dragon priest.” She picked up the mask and staff the priest dropped. She tossed the staff at Max, “you’ll be interested in this.”

“It’s a staff, Gwen. I’m not a mage,” he replied about to hand it to Dorian.

“I know what it is Max. Anyone can use it as it doesn’t require mana or magicka from the user. It has its own magical charge.” She took the staff from his hand and rolled it over. “See this here, it works as a trigger. Hold your hand over that and _think_ about firing it.” Max held it and she quickly redirected it away from everyone else. He held the staff and stared at it for a minute or two and nothing happened. “Focus, Max.” He frowned slightly pressing his lips together with concentration and effort and suddenly there was a tiny spurt of fire from the end of the staff – and it fizzled out.

“Well, that was premature,” Bull drawled. Max blushed, and Gwen turned away, biting the inside of her cheek, hard, not to laugh. “Maybe the Boss doesn’t have the aptitude for it. Give it to Dorian, he knows how to handle strange staffs.” Gwen choked, as both Max and Dorian started protesting and spluttering. Varric and Sera were both giggling with glee, and Cassandra looked disgusted by the whole conversation.

“The second new staff of the day. Aren’t I a lucky boy,” Dorian sassed as he took the staff from Max. “Ooooh, this does have an interesting feel to it.” He pointed the staff away from the group and suddenly jerked his hand off the staff, dropping it.

“What did you do?” Gwen asked.

“I, uh, channelled my mana into it. Habit.” He rubbed his hand. “It sent my mana back at me rather violently.” He picked the staff up again tentatively. He studied the staff.

Gwen busied herself examining the mask the dragon priest had. It looked like any other mask she had come across with the dragon priests in Skyrim. She held it up to her face and suddenly experienced a weird _shift_ in reality. She looked at the others, but suddenly she saw Dorian fire the staff and it blew up in his hands. “Dorian stop!”

“What?”

She removed the mask from her face and he stood there looking at her, startled. The staff lay dormant and entire within his hand. She frowned. “I was just looking at the mask and I saw the staff blow up in your hands… What were you doing or thinking when I told you to stop?”

“I… I was just thinking about firing the staff…” his eyes widened slightly. “My mana started to slip a bit just when you told me to stop.”

“Huh,” she studied the mask in her hands and she blinked as she realized something. “That’s why it was so difficult to hit the dragon priest! The mask lets you _see_ a couple seconds into the future! When I used the shout to speed everyone up, it overcame the time difference the mask provided and the priest no longer had his advantage. Here, trade you Dorian.” She handed him the mask and took the staff back. “I’m pretty such you can’t blow yourself up with the mask but you might be able to figure out the time magic on it.”

The wall was still chanting, growing louder and the word glowed as she approached. The final word, _Slen_ , seared itself on her mind as the wall went silent and dark.

“Hey, Rosy? You might want to take a look at this. There is some writing on the stone lid; it looks like that dragon alphabet you wrote out for the professor,” Varric called to her from where he stood holding a torch close to the tipped cover stone. Varric pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill from his pack as she came around the coffin to view the stone.

She traced her fingers across the marks, “the first section is: _Het nok Hahnufun._ Here lies, no, here rests Hahnufun. Dream teller. _Faal qolaas do vahzen_. The herald of fate of truth… That doesn’t make sense.”

“Herald of fate; like a prophet?”

“Ah, yes, thank you Varric. The prophet of truth. _Tinvaak do wuldsetiid._ Speaker of destiny.”

Varric whistled. “So he was someone important.”

“I guess so. I’ve never seen a dragon priest with a stone like this. Then the next section reads…” she paused as she read the first line.

“Go on,” Max prompted her looking over her shoulder.

“This is interesting: _Alduin ahrk fin laat Dovahkiin_.”

“Wait… Well we all recognize Dovahkiin. And Alduin is the dragon, right?”

Gwen looked at Max and nodded. “Yes. _Alduin ahrk fin laat Dovahkiin._ Alduin and the Last Dragonborn. The next line is _Gro ko unslaad meyz do tiid._ Bound in unending, hmm, perhaps eternal is the correct one. _Meyz do tiid_. Become of time, no passage of time.”

“I can see why you didn’t want to sit there and translate Frederic’s parchments,” Varric chuckled. “Okay, last line.”

“ _Sil wah dinok. Dinok wah sil._ Life unto d… death…” she stuttered over the words, turning pale.

Max looked at her, “life unto death, death unto life. What does that mean?”

She backed away from the cover stone. “I don’t know. I killed him on the Throat of the World, but then followed him into Sovngarde which _is_ where the heros go in the afterlife. I killed him again, but then got sent here. At Adamant, he said that I can not kill him because I’m not a dragon.” She clenched her fists and blinked her eyes rapidly as they started to water and sting. “I’m just supposed to follow him from one life to the after life, and then repeat over and over? How is that fair? What about _my_ life!”

Max pulled her into a hug, “Alduin is here. He’s with Corypheus. We’ll figure this out together.” Gwen sniffed and nodded her head.

“Why would these walls and this priest be here?” Cassandra asked.

“I’m not sure. But,” Gwen started pacing. “Dragons originally ruled all of Nirn, the dragon priests served them and ruled over the people on their behalf. In return, the priests were given great power by the dragons. Eventually the people revolted against the tyranny of the dragons, and their priests. Miraak, the first Dragonborn, was one of the priests and he gained forbidden knowledge from Hermaeus Mora which permitted him to bend the will of dragons and absorb their souls as you have seen me do. He never used his power against Alduin, the first of dragons, but the prophesy was born nonetheless. The dragon priests, other than Miraak, remained loyal to the dragons. Perhaps Hahnufun brought the knowledge that could defeat Alduin here to prevent the prophecy from being fulfilled. By removing that knowledge from Skyrim.”

“That is something to consider,” replied Cassandra thoughtfully. “Perhaps there is something within the book we have retrieved that will enlighten the situation further.”

Max nodded. “Yes, we should get the book to him. Let’s head out.”

“Hey wait. There’s something here,” Bull called to them pulling a rotted cloth off a table tucked behind a partial wall of pillars. He recoiled from the table as it was revealed. “That the fuck?”

Gwen walked around the wall, and gasped, “it’s an enchanting table!” She looked around and spotted a smallish crate that she pulled out from under the table and placing it on top. She flipped open the lid. “Soul gems! By the Nine, they’re all grand soul gems and they’re filled!” She started to bounce on her toes with excitement pocketing a few gems to recharge her remaining sword.

“This is something good?” Max asked skeptically as he looked at the creepy table adorned with horned skull, glowing green globe, and strange arcane symbols.

“Yes! I can use this and the soul gems to enchant armour and weapons. We have to get this removed and sent to Skyhold.” Max nodded, he would have some agents come to retrieve the table and crate when they got back to camp.

They headed back up to the surface of the ruins, but Gwen didn’t really pay attention focused as she was on trying to understand the the new word in context with the others she had learned previously, and the new revelations about the Dragonborn prophesy. “Gwen!” Dorian said sharply.

“What?” her head snapped around.

Dorian looked amused. “I’ve been calling your name. You’re about to fall off the ledge lost as you were in your own thoughts, love.”

“What?” She looked around and _finally_ noticed that she stood at the broken edge of the gallery landing just to the side of the stairs. “Oh!” She looked back at him sheepishly, “thank you. I was wrapped up in trying to understand the latest word.”

He chuckled, “well I figured that much.” They stepped out of the ruins and into the daylight. “Any insight?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure… The latest word means ‘body’. With the other two – ” Gwen stopped with a gasp. She grasped Dorian’s arm and gave him a tug so they would catch up to the others waiting just outside. “I understand. The dragon priest’s name ‘Hahnufun’ _is_ a clue. Dream tells of truth.” she said. Frantically she started removing her sheathed sword, bow and quiver of arrows, and dumped them into Dorian’s arms. She yanked off the belts holding her daggers and shoved them on top of the pile of weapons Dorian was already holding.

“Just wait a minute! I’m not a pack mule!” he protested.

She looked at him with excitement in her eyes as she hopped on one foot then the other as she pulled off her boots tossing them onto the pile in his arms, one boot rolling over his shoulder to fall into the sand. “Dorian! I understand!” She yanked at the ties on her armour, dropping the vambraces on the ground, then pulled the cuirass over her head.

“Um Rosy? Are you sure you want to be stripping here in the desert?” Varric asked confused. Bull patted Varric on the shoulder and waved his hand at the dwarf to quiet him, never taking his eye off Gwen.

“Shhhh,” Sera hissed. “Let ‘er get on with it.”

“I understand,” she laughed, suddenly feeling lighter than she had down in the tomb, and broke into a sprint passing them, the broken crates and carts, and trees that stood around the entrance of the ruins. “ _Vokrii Revas Slen_!” she shouted as she ran. Gwen felt the thrust of energy flow into her body; there was pain certainly, but it was nothing to the absolute _euphoria_ she felt as the change took her. She threw back her head and roared as she felt her wing unfurl for the first time and rush of the air past them as they stretched out. She took her first tentative steps and beat the new wings relishing the strength. She beat the wings harder and felt the ground below her drop away from her as she took to the air. She was flying! The dragon souls within her were ecstatic – to be on the wing again and free as a dovah should be – a stronger soul, Mulmirnir, touched her mind guiding her flight. She banked letting the air currents push her higher as she turned back towards the temple ruins. She flew over an Inquisition camp and laughed, well, roared _, “Yol!”_ sending a plume of fire into the air as she saw the soldiers scrambling under the shadow she cast. She flew several loops in each direction over the valley and temple getting used to the feel of her new body and ability.

She dove into the canyon leading to the temple, then held her wings steady as she let her momentum carry her towards her waiting friends. Suddenly she realised that the ground was coming up too quickly and she tried flapping her wings before her to slow her descent, stumbling as her feet hit the ground and showering sand, stones, and other debris ahead of her as she came to an abrupt stop. She picked herself up as the people in front of her coughed and waved down the dust before them. They looked wary and shifted carefully as they watched her.

“Nice landing,” Bull chuckled. Gwen swung her head around to look at him. His hands were empty and visible; his great axe was still strapped to his back. He stepped forward and she lowered her head slightly, keeping her eyes on him.

“Umm, is that wise?” Max asked cautiously.

“She won’t hurt us,” Cole said, peeking out from under the brim of his hat. “She’s now in her true form, but she’s still her.”

With a laugh, Bull stepped to the side of her head and ran a hand over one of her back-swept horns. “Ataashi! You’re a real fucking dragon!” Gwen gave a soft snort that sent up a curl of heat and smoke into the air. Bull ran his hand down the scales along her sinuous neck marvelling in the heat he could feel below them. A shiver raced across her form and with a sudden outward rush, Gwen resumed her normal, human, form.

She stumbled from the sudden shift in reality; Bull caught her before she fell. “Oof, landing is _hard_.” Bull laughed. “How long was I in that form?” she asked squinting at the sun trying to guage how much time had passed.

“No more than a quarter of an hour,” Max replied. “Do you think you’ll be able to do that again?”

Gwen thought about the words of power and it felt like the words were jammed in her throat, unable to come out. “Yes, but not right away. I may only be able to do it occasionally; that was exhausting.”

Bull was still jubilant, “this is awesome! We have our own dragon!”

“Let’s just keep that to ourselves for now, all right? Gwen, can you manage on your own two feet, so we can get out of here?” Max asked scanning the valley tops for enemies.

She pulled herself out of Bull’s grasp, wobbled, but remained on her feet. “Yeah, just give me a minute to get back into my armour.” She staggered for the first couple of steps before regaining her equilibrium as she reached Dorian to relieve him of her armour and weapons.

“I’m not as good as Solas with the healing arts, but you should let me check you over when we stop for the night to make sure there are no ill effects of your little change,” he said quietly. Gwen nodded as she brushed off her feet and shoved them into her boots.

“Hey Ataashi, do you think you could carry me?”

She eyeballed the qunari, “uh, I think you’d crush me.”

“No, I mean when you’re a dragon!”

“We can try.” She gave him a knowing look as she strapped her weapons back into place, “it would be the only way you’ll ever get to ride me.”

Bull stared at her, astonished, for a moment before laughing and clapping his hand on her back nearly knocking her off her feet, “niiiiiiiice!”

They continued to the horses, the others except for her, Bull, and Dorian were already mounted ready to go. Bull appeared to waver before her eyes, like he stood within the wavering hot air of a mirage. A feeling of vertigo washed over her, she shook her head to clear it. She stumbled as her knees buckled and pitched face first into the sand falling unconscious, completely unaware of Dorian trying to stop her fall by grabbing onto her arm. “A little help!” he called to the others.


	38. Learning to be Dov

Her head was pounding like someone was repeatedly hitting it with an axe. Gwen groaned as she shifted on the hard ground. “Finally! You had us very worried.” She cracked open an eye to find Dorian sitting beside her wearing a haggard look.

“What happened?” she asked slowly pulling herself to lean against the wall behind her.

Dorian handed her a cup which she accepted gratefully. “We were walking to the horses and you fell on your face unconscious. Scared me to death; I thought we were going to have to tell your Knight-Captain that you killed yourself turning into a dragon.” She wrinkled her nose at the odour from the cup. “Don’t make that face; it’s a restorative, it will help. If you were out any longer, I was going to have to start pouring it down your throat.”

“How long?” She swallowed a mouthful, made a face, and then chugged the whole lot back.

“About six hours. It’s dark out now so we’re remaining here for the night. Do you feel well enough to eat? You should. Cole said some – odd – things about the dragon being hungry.” When she nodded, he stood and helped her to her feet and guided her to the fire.

“Rosy! Good to see you up on your feet. You gave us all quite the fright.”

Gwen blushed lightly, “sorry about that. I didn’t realize that it would take so much out of me.” She accepted a bowl of stew from Cassandra with a nod of thanks.

“Is that going to happen every time you change?” Max asked, concerned.

She chewed a bit of meat from the stew giving some thought to his question. “I – don’t think so. I know when I became a werewolf, the first transformation was particularly trying. It got better the more often I changed so I would expect the same with the dragon.”

“All right,” he nodded. “Tomorrow we head back to the professor and then continue south. I wouldn’t suggest changing in front of Frederic, but perhaps try again when we’ve settled into camp for the evening.”

* * *

Frederic was both ecstatic and disappointed with the manuscript that they found within the temple. Unfortunately for him, neither he nor Dorian could read the ancient Tevene it was written in, he would have to wait on the contents until a translator could be found. They didn’t tell him that Gwen could transform into a dragon as he still tended to poke at her like a specimen under an examining glass and it would only get worse if he knew she could change. Instead, they agreed to gather the ingredients to make a lure and place them for the Abyssal high dragon that lived in the area, and report back their observations when they had time.

Their main focus was, of course, the large Venatori presence that they continued to track through the desert sands. They watched a small group moving around in an area near some caves. Gwen and Cole took point sneaking into the cave ahead of Max, Cassandra, and Bull, with Sera, Varric, and Dorian to cover them from any rear attacks and to pick off any Venatori that managed to slip away in an attempt to escape. There was very little resistance as it looked like whatever they had been looking for had been found and removed, or they simply moved on to the next location. The few Venatori that remained were quickly dealt with, preferring to fight than to fall into Inquisition hands and reveal any information. They found some corpses that had died before they got there and appeared to be riddled with red lyrium.

“A message here from someone named Vernon to a Benedict: pull up stakes. All plans for the ‘mine’ in the Western Approach are off. The Inquisition's on the move and headed your way. Dump all the bodies and relocate to Emprise du Lion,” Max read aloud.

“Ugh,” Sera complained in disgust. “Bodies for the lyrium? How about just no.”

“Maker! They did something this horrible and wrote about it,” Dorian looked around at the bodies in horror. “These people are wrong in every possible way.”

“Well we can’t do anything about Emprise du Lion right now, but there are faint tracks leading southeast of here,” Varric commented.

“So there may be some Venatori left with some information.” Max nodded, “all right. Let’s follow them and see what we can find. We still have a few hours until we need to set up camp for the night.”

* * *

They found the Venatori gathered at a crumbling fort at the edge of the Abyssal Rift, located about ten miles south of their own Inquisition camp. Gwen was given permission to change into a dragon; she flew over the camp flushing the enemies out from behind the broken walls and out into the open to face Max and the others. She landed and snapped at a Venatori mage. The man shrieked in terror, back pedalling and swinging his staff blade between himself and her. She blew a gout of fire at the mage and immediately snapped him up in her jaws as he dropped his staff slapping at his clothing trying to put out the flames instead. With a quick toss of her head, she swallowed the mage whole and turned on a swordsman that was running towards her. She blew fire at him as well just as two bolts thudded into him killing him as he fell. All their enemies lay dead or dying. She picked the dead swordsman up in her jaws, gave him a shake, and then dropped him. Putting her foot down on the body, she delicately grasped the leg in her teeth giving it a tug.

“Ew, Gwen! Stop it! What are you doing?” Dorian cried out, disgusted, as the leg ripped off the corpse. Sera gagged and hurried away. Gwen tossed her head back and swallowed the leg, then started tugging on the other one. Dorian stuck his hand on her nose and tried to push her away from the body. “Stop it!” She gave a low grumble letting him push her back. He jerked his hand away when he suddenly remembered that he was shoving against a dragon.

“Wait a minute. I think I know what she’s doing.” Bull commented. He strode over to a dead rogue and quickly stripped the body of the chain mail surcoat before dropping the corpse in front of Gwen. She ignored the swordsman and gobbled up the rogue and looked at Bull expectantly. “She doesn’t like the metal.” She swung her tail in agreement.

Varric barked out a laugh, “Rosy, did you just _wag_ your tail?” She did it again. “I am so going to add that in the next book, ‘the great Dragonborn wagged her tail like a happy Fereldan mabari presented with a bone’.” With a nimbleness that surprised them all, she jumped up and turned in one quick move to face Varric, her tail and wings sailing over their heads. She lowered her muzzle towards the dwarf and gave a light puff of her hot breath at him. “Or not…”

“Here,” Bull said, dragging another stripped Venatori and dropping it in front of her.

“Are we sure this is a good idea?” Cassandra asked.

“She was hungry before,” Cole offered, peaking out from under his hat. “This helps.”

Dorian looked at the boy thoughtfully. “You said that when she passed out last time. Feeding while as a dragon helps to sustain the change? I’ve noted that she’s been in dragon form longer this time around.”

“Yes.”

A roar sounded in the distance. “Oh shit, that’s the Abyssal high dragon Frederic has been watching. We need to move,” Max urged them. Gwen raised her head and looked over her shoulder in the direction the roar came from. The sound of a dragon in flight got louder and louder very quickly.

“Too late.” Varric pulled Bianca off his back and readied a bolt.

Gwen turned around and moved in front of the group, spreading her wings slightly and raising her neck as high as she could, making herself look as big as possible. The others could see the other dragon approaching from beneath her wing span and body.

“Hi los volaan!” the Abyssal High Dragon shouted as it landed, shaking the ground as she did so, and stalked towards them.

“Zu’u ni laan hin golt. Mu bo ko drem,” Gwen shouted back at the dragon.

The dragon shook her head in an aggressive display, hissing as she spread her wings out. “Hi fen dir fah hin folaas.” She drew her head back, they could see the fire heating the scales, and scrambled for cover as the dragon’s head came forward, maw opened wide to spew the flames at them.

Gwen held her ground and twisted her wings like a shield to deflect the flames away from the others. She shouted her frost breath at the other dragon, limning its wings and neck with ice, then said, “mu nir fin sahqo muz ni dov.”

The dragon stomped its foot scraping its claws against the stone spraying sand, dust, and pebbles into the air. It snaked its head out with lightning speed snapping at, but missing, Gwen’s throat.

She shouted, “ _Gol Ha Dov!”_ at the other dragon, bending its will. “Ofan mu wah vod nid ahraan.”

The Abyssal high dragon lowered its head and backed up, “Zu’u koraav hin du’ul.” It continued to back away a few more steps, head lowered, before finally turning and taking flight again. It flew off to the east and disappeared into a valley.

“Well, I guess we can probably forget about setting those lures for Frederic now,” Max said, chagrined as he walked out from under her wing and watched the other dragon fly away.

She looked down at him, “no. Do.”

“Huh, so you can talk, Rosy.”

She bobbed her nose in a quick nod. “Hard. Dovahzul, easy.” She stepped over top of him and went back to where Bull had returned to stripping another corpse after the Abyssal dragon left.

“You know, Inquisitor,” Varric commented thoughtfully as he watched Gwen pick up the body and toss it in the air to swallow it. “You have in your possession a very convincing means to interrogate any enemy that we might capture. I’m pretty sure anyone will tell you what you want to know if that,” he thrust his chin in Gwen’s direction, “is standing over them.”

Max turned to watch as well. “Yes, or they will tell you whatever they think will spare them from ending up as a dragon’s meal,” Cassandra retorted.

“Well, you’d know about more about interrogations than I would Seeker.” She made a disgusted noise and stomped away.

“You two need to get a room,” Max teased. “We stay here for the night. Shove the dead over the edge unless Gwen wants any more?”

She gulped back another Venatori that Bull had stripped of armour then picked up a huge warrior that had attacked them with a massive two-handed maul and dropped it in front of Bull, giving it a nudge in his direction. “You want the big guy, huh? Should I be worried or flattered, Ataashi?”

“That would depend. Do you consider it foreplay if she rips your legs off?” Dorian quipped.

Gwen changed back to her human form a couple of hours later. Getting up from where she had originally curled up against the fort’s walls, she moved over to the fire where the others sat to get warmed up. “How are you feeling?” Max asked handing her a bowl of stew which she refused with a wave of her hand. His lips quirked into a little smile, “what? Not hungry?”

She smiled back. “Surprisingly, no, I am not. And to answer your first question, I feel fine.”

“How did you know that… eating would help?”

“I wasn’t entirely sure but Cole’s comments about the dragon being hungry reminded me about when I was a werewolf. The changes were always less difficult if I fed in that form, but it also extended how long I could remain as a werewolf. Figured it was worth a try.”

“It appeared to work,” Dorian added. “Will you need to feed like that every time?”

“I shouldn’t think so; at least, not to sustain the duration of the change, but it would probably help with the fatigue afterwards. The Abyssal high dragon was living out here before the Venatori showed up so there’s obviously other prey available.”

“That’s good. I would hate for you to get hungry and start eating Inquisition soldiers,” Max joked.

* * *

“It’s good that you’re back Inquisitor,” Rylen greeted the group as they arrived at the gates the following day. “We were going to send out some scouts after you. There’s been a second high dragon spotted in the area. No one is sure where it is nesting precisely as it keeps disappearing.”

“Ah, yes. We’re aware of that. Would you mind joining us outside the keep for a few minutes? There is something we need to discuss.” Max waved for him to follow. He noticed that Solas and Blackwall had also arrived after finishing their tasks at Adamant and beckoned for them to join as well. Max strode out of the gates and headed out onto the open desert away from the keep and crevasse.

Rylen looked at the group waiting outside. “Where’s Gwen?”

“That’s… part of what we need to discuss.” Rylen looked alarmed. Max quickly added, “she’s fine, but there’s been a development that’s… well… it’s just better to show you. Dorian, if you don’t mind sending the signal?” Dorian made a gesture and shot a streak of light up into the air that sparkled at the top of it’s arc before fizzling out.

A few minutes passed. “Um, do you think she didn’t see it?” Varric asked.

“She’s afraid,” Cole replied softly.

“Afraid?”

“Yes,” Cole answered Max then looked at Rylen. “She’s afraid he might not feel the same about her now.”

Rylen frowned at the spirit boy. “I don’t understand – ” He was interrupted as they heard a dragon roar off in the distance, then saw it emerge from behind one of the tall rocky outcroppings at the edge of a valley. It was flying quickly towards them.

Rylen, Blackwall, and Solas all reached for their weapons. “Stand down,” Max ordered them. They watched as the dragon flew over them and banked around the keep before landing about a hundred feet away on the open desert. The sunlight gleamed on the copper and fiery red scales illuminating them as if they were flickering with fire. The right wing had dark mottling over the surface as if it had been burnt and scarred at some point, and silvered scales in odd patterns decorated the dragon that seemed almost familiar to Rylen as he watched the creature slowly approach the group; its wings tucked back against its body, and head high above angled down to look at them. “Does she seem familiar?” Max asked Rylen softly.

“Why would…?” Rylen examined the dragon, never having been this close to one before. Max stepped toward the dragon and Rylen took a tentative step to follow as the dragon lowered its head toward him; its pale green eyes glittered with intelligence. The dragon shifted from foot to foot as it watched the men approach, almost as if… as if it was nervous. Three silvered lines traced across the dragon’s head running from the right swept back horn; one across the bridge of the nose and under the left eye, one down the side of the head under the right eye, and the last down the edge of the jaw towards the chin. A sudden sense of recognition jolted him. “Lass?”

Gwen closed her eyes and lowered her massive head to rub her cheek gently against him, “dii su’um,” she purred. He put his hands on her head and ran them up over the horns which were a much darker colour than her scales and had an interesting texture and shape almost reminiscent of her braided hair he realised suddenly. He could only reach the one horn as her head was too big to reach across to the other. He ran his hand down her neck to her shoulder marvelling at the heat and shifting of the scales as she raised her head and spread her wings out sheltering him from the glare of the sun. She twisted her neck around to follow him.

“You’re beautiful, lass,” he said with awe tipping his head back to scan the wing that stretched high above his head.

She shuddered. There was an outrushing of magic, he wrapped his arms around her as she staggered slightly into resuming her human form. “It doesn’t bother you that I’m also a dragon?” she asked tentatively.

“No love. You’re still you in whatever form you take,” he replied without hesitation. “I love you, no matter what.” She sighed in relief and tucked herself against him as they followed the others back into the keep.

* * *

Rylen entered the room to a very pleasurable sight. Gwen lay on the fur covered bed, naked, on her stomach, as she skimmed over some of the parchments Frederic sent over. The setting sun that spilled into the room illuminated her skin with a warm glow, lighting the damp hair that tumbled down her back into a fiery trail. He closed the door softly and leaned against the door jam as he started to loosen the buckles of his armour.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to join me?” she said glancing back over her shoulder with a little coy tip of her eyebrow.

Rylen smirked, “just admiring the view, lass.” He stripped off his armour hanging it on its stand. Walking to the bed, he reached over his head to grasp the back of his tunic and pulled it over his head. Gwen smiled at his tousled hair and turned back to her parchments bending her knees and swinging her legs behind her. “Are you comfortable, mo ghràdh?” he asked with amusement.

“Very. It was too warm after my bath to put clothes back on. Do you mind?”

“Not at all. I enjoy having a beautiful, naked woman in my bed.” He sat on the bed beside her and ran his finger tips down her back, pleased with the goosebumps that rose on her skin as she shivered under his touch. “What are you reading?”

“Oh, I’m just going over the translations for that professor. He found some interesting dragon text.”

“Hmmm. I heard you had a run in with that other dragon. You weren’t injured by it, were you?”

“No.”

He ran his finger over the swell of her buttock. “Then how did you get this new mark?”

She twisted her head around to try and see what Rylen was referring to. “What mark?”

“The one here,” he commented running his finger over her rear end again.

She frowned, “I don’t know. What does it look like?”

“It looks like – ” Rylen leaned forward quickly and sunk his teeth into her flesh.

She shrieked and giggled, twisting away to swat him with her hand. “You ass!”

“No lass, it was your arse.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her closer until he had her settled beneath him, her hips cradling his own. “Now that I have your undivided attention,” he said as he brushed her hair back spreading it across the pillows, “let me demonstrate how much I have missed you.”

Gwen giggled, “it’s only been a few days Rylen.”

He hummed against her neck as he placed kisses and nips along the tendons and across her collarbones. “Perhaps. But it’s been weeks since we got married and this is the first time we’ve actually had some privacy.” He looked up at her a gave her a wicked grin, “and I fully intend on taking full advantage of that tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I'm totally going to fade to black on that last scene! The poor dears need some much needed privacy, and on Valentine's day no less. ;)
> 
> Translations:  
> Hi los volaan! - You are intruding  
> Zu’u ni laan hin golt. Mu bo ko drem - I don’t want your place/territory. We pass/go/move in peace.  
> Hi fen dir fah hin folaas - You will die for your mistake.  
> Mu nir fin sahqo muz ni dov - We hunt the red people (Venatori) not dragons.  
> Ofan mu wah vod nid ahraan - [you] give/allow us to pass no injury  
> Zu’u koraav hin du’ul - I recognize your authority / power.


	39. The Ethics of Dragons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: a very brief mention of child abuse, rape, and torture. And I mean very brief (3 sentences) - if you blink you'll miss it but I'm giving the heads up, nonetheless.

“Inquisitor!” Rylen saluted as the other man appeared at the top of the stairs after breaking his fast on their first morning after arriving at Griffon Wing. “As you can see, we’ve been getting set up. I have a patrol out at the moment. Some of the men sighted darkspawn in the area. We’re reasonably well entrenched here, but the keep’s water supply has been… problematic. It’s causing delays. There’s no shortage of things that need to be repaired, shored up, or just a good bucket of water dumped on them. I’ll prepare the troops for inspection at once.”

“There will be time for that later,” Max waived off the troop inspection. “What can you tell me about the darkspawn in the area?”

“The darkspawn seem to have emerged since we took the keep. I’ve warned the troops not to engage unless absolutely necessary. We don’t need a blight in the ranks. We have to find whatever hole the monsters came from and seal it.”

“What’s wrong with the water supply?”

“The fort’s well is full of garbage. Blasted Venatori threw corpses in there, as you know. We’ve cleaned them out but it’s not going to be safe for a while. We’ve located an oasis nearby, but a varghest claimed it. Doing a decent job of keeping us away, too. Four soldiers have already fallen to venom and claws. Blasted scavenger. We’ll need reinforcements to drive the monster out.”

“Oh well then, we’ll just send your wife after it.”

“I beg your pardon, Inquisitor?”

“I don’t think a varghest is going to stand a chance against a dragon, do you?”

“Oh. Right you are, Your Worship.”

“You might wanna tell her they’re venomous beforehand, boss,” Bull added, overhearing the conversation. “Might make her sick if she tries to eat it. I don’t know about you, but I really don’t want to see a dragon vomit.” Max nodded thoughtfully.

Rylen looked concerned. “If the lass eats it?” he asked.

“Yeah, she’s been eating her kills to sustain the transformation,” Max replied nonchalantly. “All right, we’ll head out and take care of that first.”

Gwen sauntered over to Bull as they gathered in the courtyard preparing to head out to hunt the varghest and darkspawn. “So, Bull. Got some rope?”

He gave her a cocky grin and wagged his eyebrows at her, “why? We gonna have some naughty fun?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Well I’m just wondering if you’ve ridden a dragon before? A bit of rope might be useful to hold onto…” Bull pumped his fist in glee and took off to the keep’s quartermaster to get some rope.

“Is this a such good idea?” Max cast a worried glance as Bull hurried off. “I don’t need my companions smeared across the sands.”

“I’ve ridden dragons before and I did suggest a rope as a precaution. I promise not to drop him from any great heights.” She turned back to Max from watching Bull gesturing to the quarter master. “At least you don’t have to worry about me turning on him mid-flight.”

He looked at her horrified. “That happens?”

She shrugged, “any time you force your will over another’s, there is the potential that they’ll turn on you at some point. Dragons are very proud, intelligent creatures; I try not to bend their will if I can help it.”

“You shouted something at the Abyssal high dragon that made it suddenly back down,” he stated thoughtfully. “Did you bend its will then?”

“Yes. I did it to prevent a confrontation that would have been damaging to both parties. I didn’t abuse my power but allowed the other dragon to retreat. It may challenge me again, but likely not.”

“So, we doin’ this thing or just gonna stand around talking about it?” Bull asked when he returned with the rope. Rylen wasn’t too far behind him wanting to see the transformation for himself.

“Yep. You’ll want to sit up behind my head rather than by my wings. Just try not to grab on the horns – well, you get the idea,” she trailed off. She moved away from the walls and turned to face them, catching Rylen’s eye before she shouted, “ _Vokrii Revak Slen_ _!_ ”

Rylen watched in amazement as the air rippled around her form; he couldn’t feel the magic, there was no familiar tug at the lyrium in his veins as there was with other mages, the magic involved was decidedly not of the Fade, but the evidence of the magic rushing towards her was still plainly evident. He ruthlessly squashed down the knee-jerk feeling of disquiet he felt in his gut, thanks to his nearly two decades of templar duty, at the obvious signs of immense magical power. This was Gwen, his wife, his lass; she never had, nor ever would, do anything to harm them. She would not use her magic in that way.

Solas, too, watched the transformation through hooded eyes. Gwen wasn’t the first he knew of that could transform themselves into a dragon, he found that knowledge to be both exhilarating and disquieting.

Gwen unfurled her wings and gave her body a shake to adjust her awareness to her transformed shape then lowered her head to the ground until her chin rested on the sand. Bull threw the line of rope under her neck and tied it off when Max handed him the other end. He placed his hand on her neck and hesitated, she moved a clawed foot closer for him to use as a step up.

“Uh, I feel like I ought to tell you my safeword,” he muttered, climbing on. Gwen released a little puff of smoke from her nostrils as she snorted a dragony laugh. “It’s _katoh_ , in case you’re wondering.”

“I’ll keep it in mind. Ready?”

“Yeah,” he drawled. “Let’s go.”

Gwen raised her head up, keeping her neck arched forward so he didn’t have to struggle to maintain his place. When she didn’t feel him shifting around, she started walking away from the others then unfurled her wings. With a couple powerful pumps, she leapt up off her feet and let her wings lift them into the sky. She flicked her ears with amusement as Bull roared with delight, all trepidation gone. She banked around the group in both directions making sure that Bull was stable then flew off in the direction of the oasis.

Even without the aerial vantage point, it wouldn’t have been difficult to locate the varghest. The ground surrounding and leading to the oasis was littered with bones and remnants of kills the creature had dragged back to its nest. Along one edge of the oasis stood the crumbling remains of a stone structure, no doubt built in centuries past by the Wardens to shelter any travellers or guards that stayed at the watering hole. The varghest lazed against the strategic location but quickly gained its feet as they flew overhead. “So we landing to fight that or are you just go to kill it from the air?”

Gwen tipped her head down as they flew over the varghest and shouted, “ _Iiz Slen Nus!”_ The varghest stiffened as the ice formed over its body, coating its tough hide, and creeping down into its limbs and organs.

“Death from above then,” Bull commented drolly. Gwen landed by the stationary varghest lowering her neck enabling Bull to get off. He marched over to the varghest with his great axe and swung it at the creature smashing it to frozen pieces. “Gonna check out the ruins here to make sure there aren’t any young and see if there’s any loot.”

Max and the others arrived as Bull was in the ruins and Gwen was carefully carrying the varghest carcass away from the water’s edge to keep the water from being contaminated by the creature’s venom. He looked around at the relatively unscathed area. “I see that was no problem. The captain should be able to send men safely now and station a watch here to ensure the Venatori or any other creatures don’t reclaim the oasis from our forces.”

“Hey boss! You’re just in time to do… nothing. Seriously, we should just kick back, drink, play cards, and send Gwen off to do our dirty work.” She huffed a curl of smoke at him. He held his hands up before him, “kidding! I would never do that, its too much fun killing things that need it.”

Max turned back to Gwen eyeing her speculatively. “How was riding a dragon, Bull? Felt secure enough up there?”

“Inquisitor? What are you doing?” Cassandra asked suspiciously.

“We couldn’t get through those gates we checked on our way here, but maybe Gwen can take me up to get a bird’s – pardon me – dragon’s eye view of what we’re dealing with to get to the darkspawn.”

“It’s good, boss. Twist your legs into the rope so they’re next to her neck, keep your hands off the horns so you don’t get knocked off balance when she turns her head, and you’re good.”

Max nodded, walking to Gwen who lowered her head to the ground as she had for Bull. Bull gave him a leg up and helped twist the rope around. “Inquisitor… Max?” Cassandra tried again.

“Don’t worry Cass. I’ll be fine.”

“I won’t let anything happen to him,” Gwen said as she felt Max settle into position. “Ready?” she asked him.

Max nodded. Then after a few moments said, “oh, sorry. I guess you can’t see me. Yes, I’m ready.” Gwen lifted her head and got to her feet taking a few steps from the group in preparation to fly. Max gave a nervous laugh, almost a giggle, “whoa, it’s really high up here!”

“It’s about to get a lot higher. Use your feet to tap me in the direction you want to go. You good?”

“Yes,” Max said, tightening his hands on the rope in front of him. Gwen spread her wings and pumped them a few times as she took a couple hopping steps and lifted into the air. They flew to the east of Griffon Wing keep and headed up over the massive gates that stood before Coracavus, the ancient Tevinter prison the darkspawn appeared to be coming from. A small courtyard stood in the middle of several buildings of various states of ruin. A giant paced the open space but there didn’t appear to be any darkspawn in evidence. “Can you land around here?”

Gwen circled around the area, dodging a boulder tossed in their direction by the giant. “There isn’t a good space, Max. We should look for an alternative way to get you in.”

“Okay, go north. We know the east and south gates are locked and there are only cliffs on the west.” They flew to the north and found a small tower that appeared to connect to the prison but there was a great expanse of sulphur pits standing in their way. “We’re going to have to build something to cross those pits but that sulphur is going to be a big problem.”

“I have an idea Max, but it would be safer if you weren’t with me. Keep everyone back until I return.”

“Okay, let’s head down to the others.”

She flew out over the Abyssal Rift to avoid the sulphur pits and landed by the keep where the others had gathered from returning from the oasis. “Did you have fun, boss?”

Gwen didn’t hear his response as she took to the air again and flew back toward the sulphur pits. She circled around to find the most effective spot and then shouted, “ _Yol!_ ” The sulphur gas ignited below her.

Back at the keep, Rylen came out to join the others. “What’s going on, Inquisitor?” Suddenly they heard a huge whoosh as flames shot up into the air from the direction of the pits. The blue flames rolled up into the air turning to oranges and reds as the flames rose over the heavier sulphur gases. More balls of fire rose as the fire expanded outwards from a central point igniting further pockets of the gas. They watched in awe as the fire ranged across the pits and through that the form of the dragon appeared and disappeared flying through the flames. As the flames started to die off, Gwen flew back to where the others were gathered. They recoiled slightly from her still smoking scales as she landed before them.

“Having fun, Ataashi?”

* * *

Gwen placed the parchments from Professor Frederic that were awaiting translation along with the rubbings she made of the text within the dragon priest’s tomb on a side table along with a collection of pristine parchments, quills and ink, a sharpening blade for the nib, and blotting sand. She placed the staff and mask on another work bench for study later. For now, she was eager to see what else they managed to retrieve from the tomb. She wiped the off the thick dust that still clung to the arcane enchanting table despite the handling it had received during the move from the dragon priest’s tomb within the Still Ruins. Rather than send it to Skyhold, Max had it sent to Griffon Wing for her use since she was to be there for some time before returning to the other fortress. Rylen had allocated her with a corner room away from the main traffic of the keep preventing disturbances while she was working, but also to provide a buffer in case of magical accidents. She chuckled to herself; she knew fully well that what she was doing wasn’t inheritantly dangerous, certainly not explosion worthy, but magic was different here and others didn’t share her ease with its use. She carefully wiped the table surface revealing the carvings and the softly glowing blue runes. The glass orb revealed the swirling green and blue energy as she carefully washed the surface and replaced it on the stand at the back of the table. She replaced all the candles; the old ones had crumbled to dust long ago. Once satisfied the arcane enchanter was set up correctly, she turned her attention to the crates of soul gems that they also found in the tomb. She was thrilled to have found the one crate but was over-joyed when they had located another two. She opened the crate she had identified in the tomb and sorted through the gems placing them onto the table in organized piles. She frowned in dismay when she got to the black gems.

“Something wrong?” a voice asked from the doorway. Gwen looked up from the table and saw both Dorian and Solas standing there. “The Inquisitor had said that you were staying behind to catalogue the artifacts we recovered from the Still Ruins, and I – we – both requested to stay and assist.”

She gave them a lopsided smile. “Vivienne wasn’t interested?”

“Apparently not,” Solas replied with thinly veiled distain. “Her curiousity does not extend to the magic of other worlds.”

“Well, come on in then. No point standing in the doorway.”

“So what were you frowning about?” Dorian asked coming around the table to stand beside her. Solas strolled over to the table where the staff and mask lay.

“Here,” she handed him a black soul gem that was filled with a soul. “What can you sense of this?” She was curious as to what a Thedosian mage, a necromancer at that, could sense from the gems. Gwen leaned back to look past Dorian to where Solas stood at the other table. “Solas, the mask is safe to look through, but do not channel your mana into the staff if you handle it. It will explode.”

Dorian frowned as he studied the gem. “There’s… I can sense magical energy from the gem. Similar, in fact, to what I sense when you do magic. But, there’s…” he trailed off as he studied the gem in his hand.

“Here, compare it to this one,” she handed him a white soul gem filled with an equivalently sized soul as the black gem. “Disregard the physical aspects of the gem.”

His brows pinched together as he studied the gems in either hand. He gasped, his eyes snapped up to hers, “this one,” he held out the black gem, “it seems… _aware_.”

“You are correct. The soul is conscious.”

“What!?” Solas placed the mask back down and diverted his attention to their conversation at the other table. “How is that possible?” he asked plucking the gems from Dorian’s hands.

Gwen sighed. “I don’t fully understand the magic behind it but as I was told by Nelacar, a mage who extensively studied soul gems, a black soul gem is the only gem that can trap the soul of a human or mer – one of the elven races – within it. A white soul gem of equal size can not. Whether it is due to the property of the gem itself or the nature of the soul, the soul remains conscious while trapped within the gem.”

“That’s… barbaric!” Solas sputtered. Gwen was slightly taken aback, so rarely had she ever seen the Elven mage so disturbed.

“I agree. For the most part,” she replied darkly.

Solas frowned, questioning, “for the most part?”

“Yes. Some people deserve an eternity of torment for their actions.” The elf recoiled slightly from her before he caught himself.

“How can you possibly justify using something like this?” Solas raged.

“I dare you to tell me that some souls don’t deserve that fate after _you_ find a closet in an orphanage filled with child sized retraints,” she snarled at him. “Listen to some _monster_ gloat about how he enjoys the tears and screams of women as he rapes them, or a _torturer_ laugh at how a young man pissed himself and cried for his mother as each of his bones were systematically broken. I _defy_ you to tell me that the people that inflicted that horror don’t deserve that fate and worse,” she said slamming the black soul down on the table. She sighed. “It is too easy to abuse the power and trap an innocent. On that front, I agree with you Solas.”

“I apologize, da'isenatha. I was wrong to assume that you would not recognize the issues with using that type of magic.” He bowed his head to her then stepped away from the table and wandered over to examine the parchments.

Gwen watched him walk away before turning back to Dorian. He cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the tension in the room. “How do you trap a soul in a gem?”

“By killing the creature or person that is under a soul trap enchantment. The soul trap can be applied either by a cast spell or by an enchanted weapon. A very common method is with an enchanted bow. You might be interested to know that black soul gems and their abuse is one of the reasons that necromancy is highly frowned upon in Tamriel.”

Dorian perked up, “really?” He picked up the black soul gem again to study it further.

“Yes, oh necromancer. At home, while not illegal, it is highly disapproved of. The College also forbids most practices and study beyond simple reanimation of fallen dead. Necromancers are often treated with open hostility at home.”

“That’s fascinating. And also amazing that you have never treated me with suspicion knowing what I am!” he said incredulously.

Gwen smiled at him fondly, “well I’ve never seen you try to rip out the soul of an innocent to use for your black arts, so I’ll reserve judgement for another day.”

“Can the soul be released and if so, what happens when it is?”

“The only way to release a soul from a gem is to use it either to charge the initial enchantment when something is created or recharge the enchantment on a magical item. The dragon priest’s staff can be recharged using a soul gem. Souls in black gems are send to the Soul Cairn; a sort of purgatory, once the gem has been exhausted.”

“So do the gems work here?”

“I’m not sure,” she said plucking the black gem from his hand. “I was going to test that by conducting an enchantment.”

“You’re going to use the black soul gem?” Solas asked frowning as he looked up from studying the parchments.

“Yes. Look I don’t know who had the misfortune of being trapped within the gem and I’m going to give them the benefit of a doubt. If it were me, I’d rather spend an eternity in the Soul Cairn where at least I could move about freely and converse with other trapped souls than stare aimlessly at my own reflection caught in the facets of the gem.”

“How do you know this?” he asked, still frowning.

“Because I have experienced both first hand.”

Dorian looked horrified. “How is that possible?”

“Long – long stories. But on two separate occasions, I have been partially soul trapped, my soul was still tethered to my living body. The first time I was sent into a soul gem to prevent an insane necromancer from corrupting a daedric artifact, and the second by a vampire in order to enter the Soul Cairn to retrieve an Elder Scroll.” They both looked at her like she had sprouted another head. “What?” she asked with a shrug. “It was either that or become a vampire myself, and I wasn’t too keen on that just having cured myself of lycanthropy… Any way, the point is I’ve experienced both.” She paused for a moment, “you do realise that I am essentially a soul gem?”

Both mages drew their brows together as they thought about her question. “What do you mean?” Dorian asked.

“What happens when I kill a dragon?”

Solas’ remained quiet, lost in thought. “You absorb their souls!” Dorian exclaimed.

“Yes.”

Solas broke his silence, “are they aware?”

She studied him, then answered quietly, “some are. The eldest ones have an awareness. I mentioned as much to you in the Deep Roads with the darkspawn.”

Dorian hurried to the door closing it softly. “Keep your voices down. We don’t want anyone to think that we’re discussing possession or abominations.”

Solas ignored Dorian’s outburst. “Can you communicate with any of them? You mentioned Mirmulnir during the Deep Roads expedition. Are there others?”

“None that have come forward, but I only managed to reach Mirmulnir through meditation. He declared that he spoke for the others. Am I,” she swept her hands before herself indicated her whole self, “technically possessed or an abomination, then?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Dorian and Solas answered simultaneously. Dorian looked at Solas, surprised with the elven mage’s affirmative answer.

“Let me clarify. You are not possessed. Possession would imply that the spirit, or soul, that you have joined with has superceded your will. That, clearly, is not the case. However, according to the limited view of the Circles, you are technically an abomination.”

“Has no one questioned you about this before?” Dorian looked worried.

Gwen shrugged. “No. I mean when I first arrived, Cullen and Cassandra had Rylen test my magic. They had him hit me with a Silence and Holy Smite. They didn’t seem to have any concerns as to me not being me, and it’s never been raised since.”

“Well if a malevolent spirit was going to reveal itself, that certainly would have been the time.” Dorian replied, feeling relieved for her safety.

She shrugged again, “can we move on?” She turned from them, gem in hand, and placed it and a bow onto the arcane enchanter. “I want to test two things. The first, will be to see if the enchantment process works here like it does at home so I’m going to enchant this bow. The second, will be to see if the soul gems can be filled here, so the enchantment I’m going to place on the bow is soul trap.”

“You are going to perpetuate…”

“I’m not going to shoot _you_ , Solas, although I think I might be starting to regret my stance on the use of black soul gems.” He looked unamused as Dorian valiantly tried to stifle a laugh. “I was going to go hunt that pack of hyenas that have been harrying the gate. Can I proceed?” Solas waved his hand dismissively and returned to studying the parchments.

Dorian stood quietly to the side as she waved her hand and lit the candles on the arcane enchanter then placed her hands over the glowing runes on the surface of the table bracketing the bow and gem already placed there. He watched closely as she closed her eyes in concentration and muttered unfamiliar sounding words under her breath. The runes on the table started pulsing, the swirling within the glass globe sped up and changed colours as the enchanting ritual continued. There was a sudden flash of light that had him briefly close his eyes. When he reopened them, the soul gem was gone, and the bow gleamed with a faint purple shimmer. “Did it work?”

“The enchantment process did. Let’s go see if the enchantment itself works.” She rummaged through another one of the crates and pulled out three smaller gems that appeared a dull white like unpolished quartz. When they returned to the room, Dorian carried the three gems that gleamed with an iridescent light.

“Gwen, where did you find this Alamarri text?” Solas asked bringing the parchments to the central table when she and Dorian returned.

“Alamarri?” She frowned looking at the parchment he laid out before them. “This is the dragon text from the tomb of Hahnufun. From in the Still Ruins. You recognize it as Alamarri?”

“It looks like an early precursor to their runes, but yes.”

“You’ve seen this before? Where? How?” Dorian asked curious how an Alamarri text would be found in a Tevinter built ruin.

“During my exploration in the Fade.”

“Of course,” Dorian replied with a thinly veiled attempt to still the roll of his eyes.

“Regardless of _where_ you saw these, you’re saying that these look like the runes of an existing language of Thedas?”

“Yes. They were early tribes that inhabited Thedas about a thousand years ago, even before the Tevinter Imperium. They were also rumoured to worship dragons.”

Dorian picked up the history lesson, “the Alamarri were invaded by my countrymen. Slaves brought back from the Alamarri tribes undoubtedly brought their worship of dragons with them which was largely embraced by the earlier magisters.”

Gwen looked at the parchments thoughtfully and digested what both mages had told her. “Sooooo…. an ancient tomb located in a Tevinter ruin, containing writing that was the precursor to that of an ancient tribe that predated the Vints and were subsequently enslaved by the same; both of which worshipped dragons. Bringing us back to a dragon priest from my world that has somehow been here for the whole time and may have been the originator of the dragon cults.” She scrunched up her eyes and rubbed her fingers between her brows. “Argh, this just brings up more questions I need answers to. Were the dragons already here or did they come from my world? The worlds obviously have or had some connection so did the Dragon Break that severed the realities and sent Alduin forward into my time and cause the severance between our two worlds or was there something on this side that severed the connection? Does this have any influence on the prophesy slating Alduin and I against each other?”

* * *

Gwen remained behind at Griffon Wing keep continuing work on the translations for Frederic while Max and his group headed to Coracavus. He didn’t require her assistance further as he had enough people with him, and he preferred to keep her away from the darkspawn. She and Rylen received a raven from Max indicating that his group had been successful clearing the ancient prison and had exited through the now accessible south gates. Rather than return back to the keep, Max elected to continue east to deal with issues in the Exalted Plains and the Emerald Graves. At the bottom of his missive he wrote a personal message: “Enjoy your honeymoon.”

Gwen propped herself up on her elbows in the bed as she watched Rylen get into his armour to start the day. “You know what the best thing about today is?”

Rylen sat to pull on his boots and greaves looking at her as he did so. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders like a nimbus of fire in the early morning light and it was enough to make him catch his breath at the sight. He smiled fondly, “what’s that lass?”

She rolled over and arched her back letting the sheet slide down to her waist revealing her bare body, “for the first time in months, the Inquisitor isn’t dragging me all over the country-side, and you have my undivided attention.”

His eyes grew heated, he strode over to the bed and leaned over her bracketing her body with his arms. “You, lass,” he growled, “are a desire demon sent to tempt me.” He slanted his mouth over hers, coaxing her lips to part for him. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers closing his eyes, “temptation indeed. I would like nothing better that to bury myself within you and stay there all day… unfortunately, I have duties to attend.”

She stroked her fingers down his tattooes and smiled fondly. “I know, dii su’um, but I’m glad the temptation is there.”

He kissed the palm of her hand before straightening up, “perhaps we can go hunting later? It will be a few days before the next supply caravan arrives, and some fresh meat in the meantime would always be welcome by the men.”

“Mmm, I’d like that.” She cocked an eyebrow at him and gave a little coy smile, “I can see if your technique with a bow has gotten any better since the last time we hunted together.”

He snorted a little laugh and replied, “aye lass. We shall see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay getting this chapter out. It was fighting me tooth and claw, and I rewrote it several times before I was finally happy with it.
> 
> We're starting to come down to the finish line with this tale; I think I have about 5 chapters left to go. Hopefully by then, I'll figured out which ending I'm going to use - I have 2 endings written but I'm in a quandary as to which one I prefer. Which to use, which to use?
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your comments, kudos, subscriptions, and hits! I love getting your feedback - that Inbox (#>0) is a thrill!
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](https://inquisition-dragonborn.tumblr.com/) if you want to send me an ask or chat - that tab is always open in my browser, so go for it!


	40. Gein (One) is the Loneliest Number

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little segue in the story, but Paarthurnax was chatty...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations in the bottom notes for those on mobile devices that can't use the hover feature

The snow crunched under Gwen’s feet as she trudged up the mountain path. The bitter wind howled down the mountain pass whipping crystalline snow in her face and tugged at her clothing to let the cold creep underneath. She pulled the sabre cat cloak closer around her shoulders and buried her face into the fur against the cold. She paused in her steps and looked around in confusion; something wasn’t right. She took a deep breath and used her Clear Skies shout, making the whirling snow and howling winds stop around herself. The steep path before her, the jagged stones streaked with mineral deposits, and the aurora flickering across the moons looked all too familiar to her. And yet, it was very wrong. There wasn’t any snow or mountains in the Western Approach, and the mountains around Skyhold weren’t covered with snowberry bushes that littered the tundra around her now. _I’m dreaming_ , Gwen realised. She fell asleep while she had been studying the dragon translation and wondering at how the dragon priest came to be in Thedas, and now she was in the one place where there was the possibility that someone might have the answers for her.

She pondered her next course of action. She looked down over the mountain edge and saw the outline of High Hrothgar, faintly visible through the snow and fog below her. Should she go down to speak with the Greybeards or – no, she should go up the mountain to speak with Paarthurnax. If she could talk to him as she had that time Solas had guided her sleep, she needed to try again. She turned again and continued hiking up the mountain, pausing occasionally to clear her path with the shout, “ _Lok Vah Koor!_ ” She pushed her way through the snow until the pathway opened up to the clearing on the mountain top. On the top of the dragon wall at the edge of the mountain, the ancient dragon lay motionless at her approach. “Paarthurnax?” she called out in greeting.

The dragon didn’t move or otherwise respond.

Gwen frowned. _Perhaps I’m not here physically enough for him to see or hear me,_ she thought in dismay. _Perhaps if I shout._ She took a deep breath and shouted, “ _Yol!_ ”

Paarthurnax reared his head back, blinking his eyes and pumping his wings to regain his balance on the wall as the flames from her shout washed over him. “Greetings Dovahkiin. It has been many a turning since I saw you last.” The dragon narrowed his eyes as he studied her. “Have you returned to Nirn?”

“No. I am still in Thedas. I’ve come to you in my dreams as I did before.”

The dragon scanned the area behind her, “the Fahliil grohiik is not with you?”

Gwen furrowed her brows slightly, still confused at his reference to Solas, “no, he didn’t come with me this time.” She walked toward the dragon and sat down on a rocky outcropping opposite him. “I’m a bit surprised myself to be here, but it is good to see you, my friend.”

The dragon nodded his head, “it is good to see you also, dovahkiin. Was there something you wished to discuss with me?”

“Yes, there is. I thought to speak with the Greybeards, but you might have better insight as to the ancient Dragon Priests.”

“Geh, you have saved yourself a journey. Einarth would simply send you to me.”

Her brows pulled slightly in concern; was her Greybeard mentor ill or had turned over his duties to the younger Greybeard for some other reason? “Einarth? Shouldn’t Arngeir…”

“Krosis. Rok los dilon.”

“Oh,” Gwen said softly, saddened to hear of the elderly Greybeard’s passing. “How long ago?”

“I am uncertain. What is it about sonaak you wish to know?”

She blinked at the dragon’s dismissal of Arngeir’s death; the man’s death was likely inconsequential in the grand scheme of time for the ancient dragon and so he didn’t dwell upon it, but it still surprised her nonetheless. “I came across a… sonaak in Thedas. His name, according to the epitaph on his tomb, was Hahnufun. He was guarding one of the three dragon walls I located there. His sarcophagus included an inscription regarding the prophesy between Alduin and the Dragonborn. How is it possible for a priest – a sonaak – and the dragon walls to be present in another world? And to speak of a prophesy rooted in Nirn?”

The dragon grumbled a bit and blinked slowly as if falling asleep. “Paarthurnax?” Gwen prompted, knowing the dragon could easily get caught up in his own thoughts and memories.

“Hmph. Before the Dragon Break, before the world broke, we dov could travel between realms. When the sonaak led the joor against us, Hahnufun, who was most loyal to Alduin, escaped to another world carrying my brother’s secrets. A spaan golt that the joor couldn’t travel to.”

“Thedas was a dragon sanctuary?” She asked, surprised, as she paced the clearing. She stopped and studied the elder dragon. “Alduin is still alive. He escaped to this other world that I was sent to. Did you know that he could travel through the realms even though the worlds were broken?”

Paarthurnax shook his head slowly, “no Dovahkiin. I did not think it possible any longer.”

“Hmm. So perhaps the magic that opened the Breach, simply opened a door that he took advantage of to escape Sovngarde.”

He hesitated in thought, then asked, “did you find what you need to defeat my brother?”

“Yes. The secret Hahnufun kept was how I could become dov in truth.”

The dragon’s eyes widened, “you can do this? Meyz dov?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Would you show me?”

“Umm, I can try. I’m here within my dreams so I don’t know if this will work…” Gwen backed away from the ancient dragon and shouted, “ _Vokrii Revak Slen!_ ” Even in her dreaming state she could feel the power rushing into her as she changed form. She briefly worried that she might find herself in dragon form, jammed into a room within Griffon Wing, when she woke. That would be very problematic. She spread her wings and gave herself a shake as she settled into her dragon form. She looked up at Paarthurnax, who was still perched motionless up on the wall, and breathed fire at him as was a customary greeting between dragons. " _Yol!_ ”

Abruptly, Paarthurnax launched himself from the wall and slammed into her side making her stagger. She leapt away, spinning to face him. He rushed at her and swung his head into the side of her neck. She reared back and grabbed at his wing, yanking it up so he crashed to the ground. She quickly put a foot down on his neck as she continued to hold the wing. “Paarthurnax! What in Oblivion are you doing?” she asked him, her question muffled by a mouthful of thrashing dragon wing.

“Forgive me, thuri,” Paarthurnax responded, going still. “Kruziik kos qalos vahdindov. I forget myself and that you are not familiar with our ways.” 

Gwen pondered at what he was saying, trying to understand his intent. “Are you going to attack me again?”

“I meant no harm, no attack,” he reassured her. His voice became softer, wistful, as he added, “simply haalvut. It has been so long, dovahkiin. Many of our gron were killed, including my own, when the joor rose against us, we send those we could to spaan golt.”

She suddenly felt sorry for the ancient dragon, alone in his self-inflicted exile. How long had it been since he had any contact with others of his kind? Cautiously, she lifted her foot from his neck and when he didn’t try to move or otherwise break her hold, she released his wing stepping away. She watched him closely as he pushed himself upright.

“Do any of the vahdindov remain in the spaan golt?” he asked her as he pulled his wings under himself to lift his head from the ground.

“Yes, there are – there are a few left in that land. I have seen dragonlings with some of them.” She wasn't going to mention that she had killed two of the High Dragons.

He nodded his head, seemingly lost in thought. “That is good.” His attention drifted as he stared out across the mountains. Gwen settled down, conflicted as to whether she should try to wake herself up or stay longer with the dragon.

“Paarth – ” she started to say.

“Dovahkiin. Would you do me a favour?” Paarthurnax asked, interrupting her as he turned back to her.

“Yes, my friend. If I’m able to.”

“Would you permit haalvut?” Gwen cocked her head unsure of his meaning. “To touch,” he clarified. “I will not harm, and I know you are not gron, but I would like to touch one of my own kind once more.”

“Yes, I will permit that,” she replied.

“Stay where you are,” Paarthurnax told her as she started to get to her feet. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he maneuvered himself parallel to her hip and tried not to startle as his weight pressed against her as he leaned into her and slid along her body towards her head. Their scales clattered as he slid along her, almost creating a musical tone as they flexed and struck against each other. He shoved his head under her jaw and rubbed his head back and forth from her chin to her throat before repeating the process with his own jaw over the top of her head. He let his head come to rest over the top of her neck; after a few moments, Gwen lowered her head until it rested on the ground. Paarthurnax followed her head down with his own, leaving it where it rested over her neck, and sighed, “kogaan, dovahkiin.”

“You’re welcome. I don’t know how long…”

“It doesn’t matter. This is ofan.”

Gwen let her eyes close and relaxed, letting the elder dragon enjoy whatever moments of comfort he could have from her company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations from Dragon / Dovahzul**  
>  Fahliil grohiik - Elven wolf  
> Geh - yes  
> Krosis. Rok los dilon. - Sorrow. He is dead.  
> sonaak - priest  
> joor - derogatory term for mortal man  
> spaan golt – protected ground / sanctuary  
> meyz dov – become dragon  
> thuri - often refers to a master or overlord, I choose to think Paarthurnax uses it as a sign of respect rather than subservience  
> kruziik – time passed out of memory (sic) ancient time  
> kos qalos – be in presence  
> vahdindov – there is no word for a female dragon as all dragons as per Elder Scrolls canon are asexual; however,  
> High Dragons as per DA canon are female. So I've created my own word for female dragon using vahdin =  
> woman or maiden, and dov = dragon  
> haalvut - touch  
> gron – bonded, soul mates  
> kogaan - thank you  
> ofan - (a) gift


	41. The Search for History

Rylen rolled over, reaching out his arm to pull Gwen towards him like he did every morning before starting their day, and found cold sheets. He lifted his head and blinked at the early morning sunlight that was starting to creep into the room. The sheets were thrown back on her side of the bed but her clothes from the previous night were still folded across the chest. He sat up, rolling his shoulders, then scrubbed his fingers through his hair making the curls stick out at odd angles. He got dressed quickly, foregoing the armour for the time being, and headed to Gwen’s workroom on the other side of the keep. He nodded briskly to the soldiers that were finishing up their watches and continued along the hall and down the stairs to the room on the outer edge of the keep; its location kept it at a moderate temperature day and night making it a comfortable place for Gwen to work on her translation, alchemy, and enchanting tasks she had been engrossed with since finding the fragments of her world in the hidden tomb.

The door was partially ajar and the room silent as he pressed his hand against the door stepping into the dim room. Faint blue and green light glowed from the enchanting table, and pale white and purple light pulsed from one of the crates below it. The rest of the room remained in shadow. He stepped past the door and let his eyes adjust to the dim room, revealing papers, books, and gutted candles scattered across the table in the center of the room. On the far side of the table, he could make out Gwen’s form; slumped over onto the table, her head resting on her folded arms. Rylen shook his head and chuckled to himself as he walked carefully around the table. He chuckled again as he noticed she had twisted her legs around the chair’s legs to prevent herself from falling off as she slept. He knew better than to try to move her in her sleep, he was likely to find a blade held against his throat if he tried. Instead he lightly brushed the hair that had fallen over her face as she slept back over her shoulder. “Lass,” he said softly. He ran his finger tips down her cheek, “Gwen? Lass, wake up.”

With an unladylike snort, Gwen bolted awake reaching for the blade on her table as she lifted her head from her arms so abruptly that the chair rocked on its legs. “Whaaa?”

“Easy, lass,” he crooned putting a steadying hand on her shoulder to stop her from falling out of the chair. “You fell asleep at your desk. Come on, come back to bed with me for the last bit until I have to go on duty.” He looked down at her bare feet. “Where are your shoes, lass?”

Gwen pressed the back of her hand against her mouth as she tried to stifle a yawn. “I don’t know. I kicked them off at some point…” she trailed off peering into the dark to spot the offensive footwear. Rylen chuckled and shook his head. He bent down and hauled her out of her chair, draping her over his shoulder as he stood back up and exited the room. “Rylen!” she squeaked as her head hung down his back. “This is so undignified!”

“That’s what you get for sleeping in inappropriate places, lass.”

“Put me down, I can walk!” she protested wiggling on his shoulder.

“Nay, you’re not walking around barefoot.” He slapped her ass with one hand earning him a squeal, “keep still, mo ghràdh, I’d hate to drop you.”

She let herself hang down his back for a few moments, ignoring the quickly muffled snickers as they walked past some of the guards. Suddenly she got a wicked thought and grinned to herself; she wasn’t close enough to bite his ass, but she could do something else. She dragged her fingernails up the back insides of his thighs through his loose breeches making him take a funny step to escape the sensation. “Lass, I’m warning you,” he growled placing another swat on her ass.

They passed through the door to their room, before Rylen had a chance to kick the door shut or put Gwen down, she drove her fingers into the crease below his buttocks. Hard. Rylen hollered in surprise and flung her down onto the bed and crashed down on top of her. The bed groaned in protest as they wrestled until Rylen managed to capture her hands yanking them above her head while his body weight kept her pinned below him. “You wee… wicked little… minx!” he gasped as he struggled momentarily to immobilize her. “What did you do that for?”

Gwen gave him a wicked grin. She lifted her head abruptly snapping her teeth in his face, “revenge.”  He chuckled and pressed his lips to hers, she stilled and responded to his kiss. Rylen released her hands, running them down her arms as his weight continued to hold her down. As his fingers skated over her ribs, she gasped. He froze as they both stared at each other wide-eyed, a wicked smile of his own formed on his face. “No. Don’t you dare,” she warned him.

“Revenge…” he replied and then he tickled her. Gwen shrieked and thrashed under him trying to escape. Abruptly the bed made a loud creak in protest and crashed to the floor as a leg parted way with the frame. He dropped his head against her collarbone and laughed as they lay half on the floor and half in the bed gasping for air. He pushed himself off her to go close the door. Behind him he heard the wooden bed frame thunk to the floor.

Gwen cut the other ropes dropping the rest of the bed to the floor. “I’ll fix it later today.”

“It might be safer if it just stayed on the floor.” He kicked off his boots and padded back across the room sliding under the covers and pulling her down next to her. “What has been making you so restless, lass?”

“I’m just trying to understand the rest of this prophesy and how our worlds are linked, but I’ve run out of resources. I’m scared, Rylen. What if Alduin escapes again and pulls me away from Thedas? Away from you? Or if killing him also – ”

“No,” he interrupted firmly. He pulled her into his arms tucking her head against his chest, swallowing the lump that formed in his throat. “No, I don’t believe that. You will defeat him and then we’ll go on and spend the rest of our lives together.” He kissed her on her forehead and continued softly, “we’ll have a lovely little home together somewhere, fill it with green eyed, red-haired lads and lasses, and we’ll grow old together.”

She nodded with a sniffle and snuggled tightly into his side. “I’d like that. As long as we’re together, that’s all that matters.”

Rylen lay quietly for a few minutes, thinking. “You need to send a raven to Skyhold, I think, for a trip to Val Royeaux. Have the Inquisition gain you access to the University – and the White Spire too – since you are looking at magic as well as history. Find some answers to give you some peace of mind.”

* * *

Permission to travel to Val Royeaux was quickly granted and access to the University was obtained just as fast through Leliana’s and Josephine’s efforts. Gaining entrance to the White Spire was still being negotiated, but Leliana reassured Gwen that it would be secured by the time she arrived in Val Royeaux. The Spymistress also had a few tasks she needed Gwen to take care of for her; tasks that would once again make use of her particular covert skill set.

She stood in the courtyard of the fortress tying and retying the strings holding her bedroll to Shadowmere’s saddle. Her Blades of Hessarian that had accompanied her into the Western Approach stood ready with their mounts, as did Liesel. A firm hand reached over her shoulder and gently stilled her hands. “Lass, it’s time to go. Don’t keep your guard waiting.”

She turned to face him. She hooked her fingers into the gorget that jutted out from his breastplate, cursing its presence that prevented her from being able to kiss his neck and jaw, but used it instead to pull him towards her to kiss him. “I know,” she replied with a sigh, releasing her pull on his armour. “I just don’t want to leave you.”

“I don’t want you to go either, lass, but it’ll be no more than a month. A week to get there, another one back. Leaving two to do your research.” He placed his hands on either side of her face and stroked his thumbs across her cheekbones. He tipped his forehead against hers, silently cursing the armour himself that stood between them. “Andraste guide you. Be safe mo ghràdh, and return to me as quick as you can,” he muttered quietly against her lips.

“I will, dii su’um.” Rylen released her and spun her around, giving her a leg up onto Shadowmere. With a last squeeze to her thigh he backed away as she turned the spirit horse toward to the gate. She twisted in the saddle to wave once more as they rode out of the gates and out of sight.

Gwen arrived in Val Royeaux late on the sixth day after leaving Griffon Wing. Her group took out two small groups of Venatori that they came across on their way out of the Western Approach but once they reached the Imperial Highway west of Lake Celestine, the trip to the city was swift and uneventful. Any bandits that might have thought about preying on travellers had been considerably thinned out once the civil war within Orlais had been resolved and the military forces set to do their proper job securing the roads and defending travellers from the less than savory elements. One of Josephine’s agents met the group at the western edge of the city and guided them to the estate that one of the Inquisition’s noble allies had once again made available. “Lady Dragonborn,” the agent greeted her with a sharp salute. “We have accommodations ready for you and your guard, if you will follow me.” He manuveured his horse alongside Shadowmere and continued, “access to the University has been granted. The university’s Chancellor was all too happy to open the doors for the Inquisition. Unfortunately, access to the White Spire has not been so forthcoming and the Lady Montilyet is still negotiating on that front.”

Gwen nodded in understanding. “Does the Ambassador expect to be successful in obtaining access?” she asked as she contemplated alternative courses of action to entering the Spire if it became necessary.

The agent hesitated, “she is cautiously optimistic.”

_Definitely look for an alternate route in then,_ Gwen thought. “Is there anything else to report?”

“Yes. Several ravens have arrived with correspondence for you from Sister Nightingale. They await your attention in the quarters prepared for you.” The agent saluted once again and excused themselves as the party arrived at the estate.

Groomsmen hurried forward to take care of their mounts, but Shadowmere shied away from them. Gwen gave a soft laugh as she removed her pack from the saddle. “Go on, my friend. Try not to scare everyone with your antics.” The horse tossed its head up and down and gave a loud roaring snort that spooked the other horses before wandering off. Gwen shook her head with amusement and shouldered the pack as she strode into the building.

Liesel stepped in beside her, sneering as she glanced around the hall and open rooms beyond. “So what is our first course of action in this Creators forsaken city?”

Gwen smiled with amusement at her companion, “tonight we rest. I have correspondence from the advisors to go over. Tomorrow we head to the university.”

The elf huffed with distaste. “Well as long as we don’t have to go skulking around with thieves and assassins, that’ll be fine with me.”

Gwen halted and gasped, placing her hand on her chest in a gesture of mock dismay. “But my dear Liesel, it’s what I do best! Are you saying you don’t want to accompany me?”

Liesel scowled, “that’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” Gwen threw her arm over the woman’s shoulder pulling her against her as they continued walking. “Don’t worry, I don’t _think_ I will need to go to the guilds.” She tipped her head closer to the elf, “but we may need to break into the White Spire if they won’t give us official access.”

Liesel stopped abruptly. “Sneak into the Spire? Are you mad?”

“Why? The templars have all but left the city. The mages are gone as well, not that they’d be likely to stop me. I’m sure the Chantry has hired chevaliers or some such to guard the place, but it’s been largely abandoned.” She shrugged and continued to her loaned quarters, “I’ve gotten in and out of more difficult places.”

In the morning, Gwen and Liesel navigated through the city, stopping briefly in the Belle Marché to break their fast on steamy cups of chocolate and sticky nut and fruit filled pastries. They were met at the university’s gates by a guard that blocked their access. He looked them over, noting with disdain Liesel’s pointed ears, “non, you can not enter here.”

“The Ambassador to the Inquisition has obtained entrance for myself and my _associate_ ,” Gwen replied with a nod to Liesel. “We are expected.”

“Bull shit. We don’t let rabbits and other riffraff in to this, most prestigious, university,” he sneered at them.

Gwen put a restraining hand on Liesel’s arm, then stalked toward the guard and though she was shorter, the man took a hesitant step back from her approach. “Go speak to your superiors,” she said in a low voice, “unless you wish to be personally responsible for the Inquisition discrediting this ‘most prestigious university’ to the rest of Thedas.”

Liesel smirked as she leaned against the wall watching the man stutter and then take a couple staggered steps back before spinning away to hurry into the building. “I love watching you do that. It’s very satisfying seeing them trip all over themselves.” Gwen hummed as she scanned the building and the surroundings with a practiced eye.

After a short time, there was as flurry of activity from the doors of the main building before them. A distinguished older gentleman, wearing some type of ornate ceremonial robes that fluttered around his legs in his haste as he hurried from the building flanked by a pair of similarly, although not as lavishly, dressed men; Gwen could see the guard unhappily trailing behind the others. “My lady Dragonborn. My most humble apologies for the delay,” he offered as he bowed while simultaneously casting a glare at the guard. “I am Jürgen Haulis, Chancellor of the University of Orlais. We are honoured by your visit. We had, of course, been apprised by lady Montilyet of your impending arrival and have set up an area for your use. We’ve taken the liberty to pull resources regarding dragon cults for you to start and have also petitioned the White Spire for their resources on the Inquisition’s behalf.”

“Thank you, Chancellor,” Gwen inclined her head acknowledging the Chancellor’s greeting. “Please, lead the way.”

The Chancellor led them into the main building, effusively gesturing and providing a narrative of the various artifacts and pieces of art they passed on their way to the prepared space. The other two men followed along and pointed out additional things. The guard was left glowering at the gates. They were directed to an open area just off the main body of the library. The space was well appointed with a large table where several books, pieces of parchment, ink and quills already sat. Several chairs were pulled to the table, and a small sitting area with more comfortable chairs for reading stood close by. Gwen cast her eye over the space noting the mezzanine that cut across the space between theirs and the library was partially obscured from view; a good place for spies. “I hope this will suffice, lady Dragonborn,” Haulis offered tentatively, then smiled when she gave him an affirmative response. “If you have any requests for additional materials, please notify one of the staff and it will be fulfilled directly.” He sketched a bow and left the two women in the space.

* * *

Gwen leaned back in her chair and glanced across the room at the elf who had her head resting on her arms on the table. She sighed, she hadn’t found much more information on the origins of the dragon cults beyond what she already knew from her conversations with Solas, Dorian, and Professor Frederic, and nothing at all about the dragon priest they found in the Western Approach. She sighed again as she marked her places in several books; it wasn’t time to get discouraged yet, it was only the first day. She finished filling out her request form for the university’s library and gave Liesel a shake. “Come on, we’re done here for today. Let’s go eat.”

“What exactly are you trying to find?” Liesel asked as they sat down at a table in the back of the café under the head of Madame Snappy-Snips. The flickering light from the candles on the tables made the dragon appear to be watching the patrons patiently from her place on the wall as the light shifted over the surface of the dragon’s skull.

Gwen took a sip of her drink before she answered. “Honestly, I don’t really know. Finding a dragon priest and walls here was a total surprise. And then that piece about Alduin and the Dragonborn being bound together…” she trailed off.

“Are you… are you worried you can’t defeat him?”

“Not really. I’ve defeated him in combat twice already.” She rolled her glass between her palms, then continued, “I’m more concerned about what happens _afterwards_. When I defeated him in Sovngarde, he still managed to escape to come here dragging me with him. What if that happens again, Liesel?”

“It won’t,” the elf answered vehemently. “You’ll defeat him and then live the rest of your life here with us.”

“I hope so, but if there is any knowledge of how he was able to cross the worlds, it might provide some clues as to how I can prevent it happening again. Or why the dragon form is so important.”

“And you think that if there is knowledge of this, it is most likely hidden within the history of the dragon cults?”

Gwen shrugged. “It’s the best I’ve got to go on.”

Liesel reached across the table startling Gwen by grabbing her hand, “we’ll find it. If it exists, we’ll find it.”

The next two days were much the same; the university library staff were very accommodating but there was very little documentation on the dragon cults or their origins. The White Spire sent word that they would not be opening their library to the Inquisition directly but would not permit access directly. Gwen growled as she read the missive from the White Spire. “This is horker shit! The Inquisition went out of their way to relocated priceless artifacts and documents from the Archives of Montfort to the White Spire at the chantry’s behest when they were being threatened by bandits, and now they repay that by denying us access to those same vaults?” She threw the parchment down on the table in disgust.

“What are we going to do?”

Gwen studied her companion speculatively. “ _We_ … are going to continue working here.”

“You’re not… Of course, you are.” The elf gave an exasperated sigh knowing full-well that Gwen was going to go ahead with her plan to break into the White Spire. She leaned closer and whispered, “are you going tonight?”

Gwen shook her head as she flipped through another book, “I’m going to speak with some friends tonight.”

“You mean…” Liesel trailed off, pressing her lips tightly together, when she saw the flicker of a frown cross Gwen’s face.

When they returned to the estate for the evening, Gwen changed into plain dark leathers tucking in a pouch of gold, lockpicks, and a variety of daggers into her sleeves, boots, and pockets. She pulled the hood of her dark cloak up obscuring her distinctive hair and turned to address Liesel who sat at the table picking at her nails with the head of a broken arrow. “I’ll be back by dawn.” The elf nodded, not bothering to hide the disapproving look on her face. Gwen laughed silently to herself; she was pleased that the elf didn’t simper or filter what she thought simply because of who Gwen was in relation to herself. She shook her head with amusement and slipped into the shadows that embraced her like a second skin, she reached the Belle Marché which still bustled with the traffic of diners, merchants, and those seeking all sorts of entertainment for the evening.

As she crossed the far end of the market and slipped into a narrow street that led into the more disreputable areas of the city, she spotted a dark-haired man walking briskly ahead of her. He carried himself like a warrior and for a moment when he turned to glance down another street, Gwen could swear that it was Blackwall. She stood at the corner of the cross-street and watched the man disappear into a tavern. She dithered for a moment whether she should follow him or continue with her own mission. Surely it couldn’t be Blackwall? He was at Skyhold last she heard, and she was certain that Leliana would have mentioned it if any of the other Inquisition agents, particularly Max’s inner circle, were present in the city even if only to avoid an awkward confrontation that could jeopardize clandestine missions. She shrugged to herself, it wasn’t her place to question his presence here in the city so turned in the opposite direction and headed for the secret entrance that would take her to the guild.

“Eostig. We didn’t expect to see you again.” The thief let his feet slide off the chair to the floor with a thump and he kicked it out for her to sit on when she entered the guild tavern. “Heard you was dead.”

“Marcus,” she replied, acknowledging the senior thief. “Rumours of my death –”

The thief interrupted her with a wave of his hand. “Are of no interest to me, Dragonborn. What do you want?”

She didn’t react to him using her title. “I came to see the guildmaster to buy some information,” she replied starting to get out of her seat.

“Providing you with information has proved to be dangerous,” he said interrupting her again.

She stopped and looked at him. She glanced around the room, anyone she made eye contact with immediately diverted their eyes, and everyone tried to look very interested in their drinks. “Explain.”

“Word _somehow_ got back to the House of Repose that the information on how to breach their defenses came from us.”

She studied him for a moment, then replied, “Giana.”

“The same. We don’t know if they knew it was her or if she told them the guildmaster sold the information, but we found her throttled a couple of days after you left the city. The guildmaster was killed a few weeks later.”

Gwen’s brows rose at that declaration. “And you think the House of Repose did it?”

“We know they did. They left their calling card on both bodies. And a warning to the new guildmaster.”

“And you’re the new guildmaster,” she deduced. He inclined his head in agreement. “Well then you’re in luck. I am seeking information about something else entirely and have a fat purse of coin.” She tossed the purse onto the table where is made a melodious thunk as the gold coins slid around inside. Marcus’ eyes narrowed. Gwen bit back her smirk; the man’s avarice was greater than his fear. “Care to hear me out and then you can decide if it’s worth it?”

When Gwen slipped through tunnels exiting the thieves’ guild, she was lighter of the gold, but she had information and a crude map of the interior of the White Spire. She just hoped that the information was worth what she paid for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay in getting this chapter out. Lots of things going on in my personal life but hopefully back to a normal rhythm again!  
> Have some Gwen and Rylen cuddling based on this chapter:  
> 


	42. Truth Revealed

Gwen slipped through the gates of the estate eager to drop into bed after spending the entire night deep in the bowels of the White Spire. Stablehands rushed around leading additional exhausted horses off to the stables. Her fatigue immediately faded away as she strode into the main house to see what was going on. “Liesel,” she called from the foyer.

“Oh good, you’re here Gwen,” Max replied exiting from one of the rooms off the entrance hall. “Have you seen Blackwall?”

Her brow pinched with concern. “He isn’t with you or at Skyhold?”

“No. I came here directly from the Emerald Graves and Leliana reported that he disappeared a few days ago from Skyhold. All indications are that he came here.”

“Shit,” she cursed. “I saw a man a few days ago that I swore looked like him from the brief glance I got, but I had no reason to suspect it was so didn’t follow him. I can take you to where I saw him, and we could start our search from there. Just let me drop off my research and we’ll go.” Max nodded. She hurried up to her quarters dropping off her satchel, giving her face a quick wash to help wake herself up, and hurried back down the stairs.

Cassandra, Varric, and Sera fell into step behind Max as she led them through the gates to the market and towards the other end opposite the cafés where the streets narrowed into the less desirable parts of Val Royeaux. “Oi, Quizzy there’s a crowd gathering down there,” Sera piped up. It was an unnecessary observation as they could all plainly see the people hurrying ahead of them and the noise of a growing, agitated crowd. Three men stood on the gallows; the bailiff wearing a guard uniform, another with an executioner’s hood, and the third, the prisoner, who knelt on the boards below a readied noose.

The bailiff unrolled a scroll and started reading, “Cyril Mornay. For your crimes against the Empire of Orlais… For the murders of General Vincent Callier, Lady Lorette Callier, their four children, and their retainers…” The crowd hissed in displeasure. “You are sentenced to be hanged from the neck until dead. Do you have anything to say in your defense?” The prisoner said nothing but stared forlornly over the heads of the gathered crowd as he weaved back and forth unsteadily on his knees. “Very well.” The executioner stepped forward roughly hoisting the prisoner to his feet and placed the noose around his neck.

“Well this is grim,” Varric said.

“Proceed,” instructed the bailiff. Gwen caught sight of someone moving through the crowd. She nudged Max and they tried to intercept them.

“Stop!” a voice called from the crowd. The crowd murmured at this new turn of events.

“A Grey Warden,” the bailiff commented, gesturing to the executioner to hold his position and stepping to intercept the man as he climbed the steps to the platform.

“This man is innocent of the crimes laid before him,” Blackwall declared. The crowd gasped in shock. “Orders were given, and he followed them like any good soldier. He should not die for that mistake!” Mornay looked stunned at the sudden reprieve.

The bailiff stalked toward Blackwall and demanded, “then find me the man who gave the order.”

Blackwall looked into the crowd spotting Max and the others. “Oh, shit,” Varric muttered.

“Blackwall!” Max called out pushing his way toward the gallows.

“No. I am not Blackwall.” He shook his head, “I never was Blackwall. Warden Blackwall is dead and has been dead for years. I assumed his name to hide, like a coward, from who I really am.” The crowd gasped again at his admission.

“You, after all this time…” Mornay accused him.

“It’s over.” Blackwall turned to face Mornay. “I’m done hiding. I gave the order. The crime is mine. I am Thom Rainier.” The crowd jeered and started making threatening gestures at the man that stood before them. The executioner removed the noose from Mornay’s neck and helped him off the gallows while the bailiff escorted the newly confessed Rainier to the prisons.

When Max and Cassandra returned to the estate many hours later, Max looked haggard and worn like he had gone weeks without sleep. He collapsed onto one of the couches in the lounge where his other companions had been waiting for news on Blackwall. Max sat staring at the table until someone pushed a goblet of wine into his hands. “Boss? What’s the story?” Bull asked quietly.

Max took a swallow of the wine and sighed. “Blackwall, _Rainier_ , was a Chevalier and a captain in the Orlesian army. He accepted gold from one of Gaspard’s allies to kill Callier, one of Celene’s supporters. They didn’t know that Callier’s family would be travelling with him. When the truth of it came out, he ran. Later, the real Warden Blackwall, recruited him. On the way to Val Chevin for the Joining, they were ambushed by darkspawn, and Blackwall was killed taking a blow meant for Rainier. Blackwall said…” Max grimaced and shook his head. “ _Rainier_ said that he took Blackwall’s name to stop the world from losing a good man.”

They sat silently digesting the news. “Now what happens?” Varric queried.

Max sighed again and rubbed his hand over his face. “Bla… Rainier will be released to our custody for judgement.” He turned to Gwen with an apologetic look on his face. “Gwen, you and your Blades will escort him to Skyhold.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth to speak. “I know you were to head back to the Western Approach, but I need you to do this. The rest of us will be leaving tomorrow and you will leave the day after with Rainier in custody. It needs to be done this way, it can’t look like I’m ignoring the charges and using the Inquisition’s influence to bail out my friends. We’ll meet you on the Imperial Highway between Halamshiral and Jader to escort the rest of the way to Skyhold.”

“I understand. I need to send a raven to Griffon Wing to let Rylen know that I won’t be headed back on the original schedule. No need to have them send out search parties if I don’t arrive when they had expected.” Max nodded.

When the Inquisitor and his group left the following morning, Gwen spent the day making her preparations packing up her research notes, sending messages to the university chancellor and to the Western Approach. On the morning on the second day, she donned a borrowed Blades tabard over her armour, and arrived at the city prison with the rest of her Blades to retrieve Rainier. She walked into the barracks and addressed the bailiff, “I am the Lady Dragonborn. I’m here on the Inquisition’s behalf to escort the criminal known as Rainier to Skyhold for judgement and sentencing.” The bailiff looked at her and then over her shoulder at the six Blades that stood at attention behind her all armed and armoured. Satisfied, he pulled the keys from his belt and escorted her through the locked gates and down into the prison cells below.

“Rainier,” the bailiff barked. “Get up. Your escort is here.”

Gwen stood back as the bailiff opened the cell door then stepped toward Rainier as he stood at the doorway looking slightly bewildered. “Hands,” she demanded as she made eye contact with him. She wrapped rope around his hands securing them before him then placed her hand upon his shoulder and directed him up the stairs before her to the waiting Blades.

She turned back to the bailiff to thank him as the Blades surrounded the prisoner. “Don’t let that scum run a second time,” the bailiff spat. Gwen nodded her head in acknowledgement and indicated for the Blades to leave the prison.

The march back to the estate was silent except for the sound of feet on the cobblestones and the creak of the armour. People, nobles and commoners alike, muttered and gestured as they passed though the market and out the gates towards the residential area where she had been staying. Gwen walked at the back of the group casting her gaze around watching for any trouble, but they arrived at the estate unmolested. “Are we ready to go?” she asked Liesel as the elf hurried over to her as they marched through the gates of the estate.

“Yes. The stablehands have the horses tacked and ready to go. I’ve packed our things and have them secured.” She pulled another borrowed Blades tabard over her own armour. “We’re ready to go when you are.”

Gwen nodded. “We leave immediately,” she called out in a loud voice. The stablehands hurried to lead the horses into the courtyard. “Mount up.” She swung up onto Shadowmere and waited until Rainier had been assisted onto his horse. His hands remained bound, the reins were wrapped around his horse’s neck out of his reach, and a lead line to his horse’s bridle was handed to her. With everyone ready, they rode out of the gate at a brisk trot in three groups of three with Rainier in the very middle and made their way to the ferry to take them across the Waking Sea to Lydes. Once on board, Gwen escorted Rainier to a cabin that had been allocated for her use for the crossing. She sat him down at the table in the cabin then examined his hands to make sure that the blood flow hadn’t been cut off. Opening the door, she spoke quietly to someone and then waited a few minutes for them to return with the requested food and ale. She placed a platter of food in front of Rainier and a mug of ale, taking a slab of coarse bread and cheese for herself before sitting down across from the man. “Not sure when you ate last so help yourself.”

He sat still ignoring the food for a few moments, when Gwen didn’t say anything further, he started to eat. They sat in the room as the ferry started to move, above them they could hear the sounds of the crew working to get the ferry out onto the water, and Gwen’s own group looking after the horses. Rainier took a deep swallow of the ale and studied Gwen. “Why am I here with you?”

“Because the Inquisitor petitioned to pass judgement on you himself; however, it would not have looked right if you simply rode out of Val Royeaux at his side like a friend and companion. You are being escorted under guard by the Blades of Hessarian, which all of Southern Thedas knows is an organization whose tenant is to mete out justice against the corrupt.”

“So, you’re escorting me to my execution.”

“I don’t know what Max has decided to do with you. I hope that he shows you mercy. You didn’t have to save that man, but you did. You put your head in the noose for him and that took courage.”

“Courage? I killed innocent people… Destroyed Mornay’s life and the lives of others like him. One moment of courage will not make up for that.” He stared at her and when she didn’t reply, he shook his head with frustration. “Don’t you understand? I gave the order to kill and I lied to my men about what they were doing! Those men, my men, paid for my treason while I was pretending to be a better man! _This_ is what I am! A murderer, a traitor…”

“I know you’re more that what you say. I have seen you defend the weak and helpless. I heard you argue passionately with the Wardens to get them to turn against Erimond and Clarel. You are a good man.”

He growled in disgust and shook his head again. “I’m not. I’m a monster.”

“If you didn’t regret your actions, if you didn’t try to atone for your mistakes, I would agree with you. But that’s not the case.” She rocked back in her chair as she studied him. “A very wise – person – once asked me if it was better to be born good, or to overcome your evil nature through great effort.”

He scoffed. “You’re a good…” he trailed off as she raised a brow at him in question.

“I have been an assassin and a thief,” she said quietly, interrupting him. “Some would say I’m a traitor. And I am most definitely a monster. Am I still a good person in your eyes?” She stood up then and brushed off her hands on her pants. “I will get one of the men to escort you to the head and then up to the deck. We will be back in the saddle as soon as the ferry docks.”

As soon as they were back on the road and clear of the town of Lydes, Gwen slowed them to a walk and leaned over from Shadowmere’s back to cut the ropes binding Rainier’s hands. He gave her a puzzled look. “Well I trust that you aren’t going to run on me, so you can have your hands free to ride your own horse.” He nodded in agreement. She removed the leadline as soon as he freed the reins from where they wrapped around the horse’s neck and moved the group back into a brisk trot.

Max and the others were waiting for them just before nightfall with a camp set up just off the Imperial Highway. It was a very uncomfortable evening as no one wanted to talk or look at Rainier. After a pleading look from Max, she instructed the Blades to continue their guard duties and followed Max away from the fire when he beckoned to her. “Thank you for this Gwen. I’m sorry to have pulled you away from Rylen.”

“It’s all right, Max. We’re at war, we know we have our duties.” Max wrapped his arms around himself and sighed. Gwen looked back over her shoulder to the campfire and the others sitting around in stiff, silent groups. “How are you doing?”

He sighed again. “I am struggling with what to do with Black… I mean, Rainier. If I wanted him dead, I could have just left him in Val Royeaux, but I can’t just absolve him without there being some backlash.”

“He was to become a Warden. You could still send him to them – after Corypheus is dealt with, of course.”

Max made a moue of distaste. “The Wardens… They have troubles of their own. I don’t know if they’ll survive what they have done to themselves. I haven’t heard from Hawke as to their status at Weisshaupt.”

She looked up the stars as they started to emerge in the growing dusk. “You could send him to the Blades.”

He looked at Gwen, startled. “You would accept his sword?”

“Why not? For all the crimes in his past, he is a good man. I trust him. Let him decide where he serves.”

Max nodded thoughtfully. “Thank you, Gwen. That has given me something to think about.”

* * *

Travelling the following day was fraught with tension, no one was really interested in conversing with the man they formerly knew as Blackwall, but it didn’t stop them from making cutting remarks. Max kept to himself and remained deep in thought except to occasionally rebuke his companions for any jibes they made against the false Warden.

“Max,” Gwen called out to Max as everyone started to get back on their horses for the final push to Skyhold. “I haven’t had a chance to stretch my wings in a few weeks and I’d like to do so now.” Max nodded absently, his mind was elsewhere. She had a few words with Liesel and the Blades, then changed into her dragon form and took off into the sky.

Cassandra watched her as the dragon circled the road ahead of them and flew towards the mountain path through Gherlen’s Pass. “Inquisitor, you did inform the advisors that Gwen can turn into a dragon?”

Max jerked his head out of his reverie as he considered her question. He gave her a bashful look. “No. I told them only that she found what she was looking for in the Western Approach. Considering what happened with Qunari before,” he said casting an apologetic glance at Bull who shrugged in response. “I didn’t want to risk sending message that could be intercepted with information about her abilities, and with all the recent - excitement I haven’t had a chance to elaborate.”

“You know Curly’s going to have fits if she decides to arrive before us?” Varric asked with a grin creeping onto his face as he thought about the Commander’s likely reaction.

“No, she…”

Bull smirked as he watched the silhouette of a dragon disappear over a mountain peak, “yeah, she’s totally going to do that.”

“Jackboot is going to shite in his… jackboots,” Sera giggled.

Max sighed, “hopefully Cole will get a sense of her and warn the Commander before we get there.”

Gwen flew over the mountain ridge and stayed low flying along the valleys to keep out of sight as much as possible as she traveled through the Frostbacks towards Skyhold. She didn’t want to cause too much chaos – _who was she kidding,_ she laughed to herself – instead of following the road towards the keep she came up from the backside where the undercroft and prison cells overlooked the massive waterfall. She flew up over the great hall and the Inquisitor’s tower and spread her wings wide to help slow her descent into the upper courtyard without creating too much disturbance by flapping her wings. She thumped down into the courtyard raising dust and debris as her weight hit the ground. The bells in the watchtowers started ringing frantically by the guards on duty. She sat down on her haunches, tucking her tail around and pulling her wings in close to wait. The Inquisition's soldiers, templars, mages, and scouts that were in residence quickly surrounded her on all sides at the ground level as well as from the walls. She tipped her head to glance at the great hall.

“She’s laughing. She’s not here to hurt,” Cole said appearing right in front of the advisors making them skid to a halt as they rushed from the war room to see what the commotion in the courtyard was.

Cullen brushed past him, his hand on the hilt of his sword, and hurried through the great hall with Leliana and Josephine close on his heels. His eyes widened at the sight of a huge red dragon sitting in the middle of the courtyard. “Maker’s breath!”

At that moment, horses clattered into the courtyard. Cullen was both relieved and dismayed to see the Inquisitor and his group enter the keep. “Inquisitor, we have a bit of a situation…”

“I know, Commander. Have your men stand down.”

“Pardon? Inquisitor, the dragon – ”

“Yes, I know. I sent word in one of my reports that Gwen found what she was looking for…”

“Yes, she… she found a dragon?”

Max sighed, “she _is_ the dragon.”

“Inquisitor, I don’t think…” Cullen stopped, he frowned and looked at Max. Bull was already over by the dragon and appeared to be talking to it. “I beg your pardon Inquisitor, but did you say she _is_ the dragon?”

“Yes. In the Western Approach, she found the knowledge of the magicks that lets her change. She can defeat Corypheus’ dragon now. This evens the odds for us. But for the moment, we need to discuss what is to be done with Rainier.”  Cullen straightened up, directed soldiers to escort the prisoner down to the cells, and followed Max and the other advisors back into the great hall.

Gwen watched the Inquistion forces within Skyhold return to their duties, amused with the cautious looks that kept being sent her way. “Ataashi. Thought about how you’re going to deal with changing in front of all these witnesses?” Bull asked quietly as he stood beside her watching the people around them as well. “Might want to keep your identity quiet for a while longer.”

She huffed out a curl of smoke sending some people scurrying away, then spoke with a low rumble. “Over the wall.”

Bull looked past her to the low wall that stood behind the tavern by the requisition office. It was the lowest wall in the keep and stood over an unscaleable cliff face. “Yeah, that’d work.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Circle around the mountain to ride back in on that horse of yours.” Gwen huffed another curl of smoke and got to her feet. Bull ducked as her tail sailed over his head as she headed for the low wall. Climbing up, the stone cracked in the few places as her claws scrabbled to make purchase, then balancing on the wall she gave a roar and dropped off the wall spreading her wings as she descended into the valley below and out of sight.

* * *

“For judgement this day, Inquisitor, I must present Captain Thom Rainier, formerly known to us as Warden Blackwall.” Blackwall was led to the bottom of the dais by two Inquisition guards, shackled and looking disheveled from his stay in the prison. “His crimes… Well, you are aware of his crimes. The decision of what to do with him is yours.” Josephine walked to the side of the dais and kept her eyes downcast to her writing board awaiting to record whatever sentence Max decided to pass on his erstwhile companion.

“I didn’t think this would be easy, but it’s harder than I thought,” Max said sadly.

“Another thing to regret. How much has the Inquisition been damaged by having me released? You should have left me there. I had accepted my fate and was ready to die for my crimes.” Rainier shook his head and then let it drop forward on his shoulders. “What is to become of me now?”

Max studied the man before him. “You have your freedom, Thom Rainier.”

Rainier’s head snapped up in surpise, “it cannot be as simple as that.”

“It isn’t. You’re free to atone as the man you are, not the traitor you thought you were or the Warden you pretended to be with one stipulation. Once Corypheus is dead, you will either pledge yourself to the Wardens, such as they are, as Blackwall intended, or,” Max flicked his eyes toward Gwen who gave the slightest nod in acknowledgement. “Or, you pledge yourself to the Blades of Hessarian. Blackwall gave you the chance to atone through action, not merely punishment. I can do no less.”

“My sword is yours. I am grateful for this, Inquisitor, and I will serve for as long as I can.”

Max nodded his acceptance of Rainier’s pledge. “Take your post, Thom Rainier.”

* * *

Gwen sat under one of the trees in the garden writing a letter to Rylen. She closed her eyes, tipping her face up towards the warmth of the sun, envisioning the man she loved. She recalled the scrape of the stubble along the hard edge of his jaw as her hands skimmed along before twining her fingers into the soft curling hairs at the nape of his neck to pull him in for a kiss. The soft, fleeting kisses he would chase before wrapped a strong arm around her waist pulling her into his body and sinking his fingers into her own hair to take control and deepen the kiss.

“Do I have you to thank for my life?” She looked up, startled out of her daydreaming, and raised her hand before her eyes to block the sun that blinded her the person that stood before her. Some pieces of parchment skittered off her lap into the grass. He bent down and retrieved them, holding them out to her. “I’m sorry, I’m disturbing you.”

“It’s all right, Thom.” She took the pages from him and tucked them in a neat pile beside her. “Have a seat.”

Rainier looked around the garden, never having spent much time there himself. From the opposite side from where they sat, someone began singing some verses in the room set up for the Chantry, and their voice floated peacefully over the hushed garden. “I didn’t know you favoured the garden?”

Gwen wrapped her arms around her knees and smiled softly. “I brought some seeds and cuttings from the Western Approach that I was going to send on to the plant researchers. This garden, especially when one of the sisters or mothers starts singing reminds me of…” She trailed off for a moment, caught up in the memory. “I used to sneak out the secret entrance from the Thieves Guild and sit among the tombstones, watch the luna moths flit around the nightshade, and listen to the priestess praying at the Shrine of Talos.”

“That sounds… rather morbid, actually.”

She hummed uncommittedly letting her gaze lose its focus as she reminisced. “I suppose it would be for some. But when I struggled with things in my life, it was a place to think.”

Thom shifted uncomfortably, “do you miss that life?”

She looked out the corner of her eye at him and smirked, “why? Having second thoughts about whether you should commit to the Blades. I hear their leader is a real dragon.”

He chuckled as she bumped his shoulder with her own. “Yeah, I’ve heard that.” He cleared his throat, “about that… I assume the only reason the Inquisitor gave me the choice was because you made it available first. Why would you do that? No one is going to thank you for harbouring me.”

She shifted around until she was fully facing him and looked at him hard. “I didn’t do it to seek anyone’s favour or thanks. You have been trying to atone for the mistakes you made before. You need to still be able to do that. The troubles within the Grey Wardens, well…” she sighed. “It was the right thing to do.”

He took both of her hands in his and bowed his head over them. “Thank you, my lady,” he uttered, his voice gone rough with emotion.

Gwen squeezed her hands in reply and joked to lighten the mood, “don’t thank me yet, Thom Rainier. You may end up patrolling the Storm Coast and fighting darkspawn yet.”

“I won’t disappoint you,” Thom replied. He looked up, slightly discomforted by his emotional outburst and released her hands gently. “I, uh… I will leave you to your writing.” He glanced up and spotted a boy peeking at them, at Gwen, from behind a tree. “I see someone else is seeking your attention,” he said, nodding to the boy that hovered close by. “I will leave you to it.” He stood up, gave a final parting nod to Gwen, and left the garden.

“Hello,” said a young voice. The young boy, no more than nine or ten years old, emerged from behind the tree and stood in front of her. He cocked his head to the side looking at her curiously.

“Hello. I don’t think we’ve met?” Gwen replied. "I'm Gwen."

“I’m Kieran. Your song is familiar. It’s very old.”

“Well met, Kieran. What do you mean my song is familiar?”

“I’ve heard it before, long ago, but you only sing part of the song. Yours is too fast and small now, but it’ll be right again when you’re bigger.”

Her brows pinched together as she tried to understand what the boy was telling her. “Is the other part of the song here?”

“Yes. It went away for a long time, but it came back and so did you. I hear it in my dreams. They call to each other.”

Ice crept up Gwen’s back. She hesitated, not wanting to know the answer but at the same time needed to know. “What happens if the songs come together?”

“They won’t call any more. Two sides of a coin back together.” A woman’s accented voice called from the shadows of the garden, calling the boy. He looked over his shoulder, then turned back to Gwen. “I have to go now, but I hope I get to see you again before you go.” He turned and ran off.

She sat there for a moment then started to gather her papers; her hands trembling and cold. Suddenly she found two thin arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders and the brim of a large hat pressed against her head. “It’ll be all right,” Cole said softly. “You’ll see him again.”


End file.
